


Picture Book

by Sportscandycollective



Series: Fall Greater Than He Ever Knew AU [7]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Bullying, Christmas Eve, Curly Mustaches, Daughters, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Emo, F/M, Family Fluff, First Dates, First Meetings, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Gift Exchange, Grandmothers, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Growing Up, Ice Cream, Imagination, Implied/Referenced Past Verbal Abuse, M/M, Make Believe, Meeting the Parents, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Regret, Reunions, Robbie is seriously freaking out, Running Away, Sleepiness, Snow, Snow Angels, Snow Day, Spies & Secret Agents, Sportacus gets self-conscious, Sportacus's mom beats up a monster, Two Fathers, Wish Fulfillment, Wishes, fear of isolation, fear of the dark, igloo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sportscandycollective/pseuds/Sportscandycollective
Summary: A collection of one-shots for the Fall Greater Than He Ever Knew AU and possibly Clockwork Dancers, focusing on family stories and plenty of fluff with a smidge of sad stuff.NOTICE: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ONTO OTHER WEBSITES.





	1. Nothing is Dearer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from a quote by Euripedes

The living room looked more like a craft store than their living room when Robbie came home.  
He had thrown his house keys into the key bowl and taken off his work apron when he walked around the corner, spotting Sportacus sitting crisscrossed on the carpet, a pair of scissors in his hands as he snipped off the sharp corners on his piece of sky blue paper. He was humming a little tune to himself as he shaped the paper into an oval shape. Happy with the result, he put down the scissors and grabbed the glue, squeezing a thin lined design onto the short side of the paper.  
Robbie smirked, and snuck over towards his distracted husband. Even though he hadn’t been a full-fledged villain for many years, he still had a knack for sneaking. Sometimes, even Sportacus couldn’t hear his husband approach.  
Leaning against his fuzzy recliner, Robbie finally spoke. “I’m glad you finally remembered to put down newspaper before you start your arts and crafts, Sportanerd.” He said with a chuckle.  
Sportacus, much to Robbie’s surprise, nearly jumped a full foot into the air, the glue nearly flying out of his hands. He fumbled with the glue bottle and sat it down before shoving his paper craft off to the side. He turned and gave a wobbly smile to his husband.  
“You’re home early!” he exclaimed.  
Robbie quirked and eyebrow. “Not by my clock, I’m not.” He pointed to the clock on the wall. “Five o’clock. That’s when I always get home.”  
Sportacus’s cheeks turned a bright pink. “Oh, r-right! I guess time just got away from me.”  
Robbie shook his head with an affectionate smile. “Must’ve been a slow day for you then, huh? Normally you’re pretty good at keeping track of time.”  
“Yeah, my crystal only went off once or twice. Had to save the kitten again, and Ziggy nearly dropped a stack of colored paper.” Sportacus said.  
“Just another mayhem filled day in LazyTown, I see.” Robbie said with a sarcastic tone.  
Sportacus chuckled, then turned back to his project. He gently dusted some glitter onto the still-wet glue design.  
Robbie plopped himself down next to Sportacus, watching how carefully he decorated the paper, adding different colored glitter in a specific sequence, creating a shimmering rainbow on the construction paper.  
At first, Robbie couldn’t think of why Sportacus had gotten so fixated with paper crafts. Then, a light bulb turned on in his brain.  
“Geez, is the wishing day coming up again?” Robbie asked.  
Sportacus nodded excitedly. “Tomorrow, actually!”

A few years ago, Mayor Meanswell had announced an initiative to introduce more holidays to the LazyTown calendar. Most specifically, he wanted to incorporate elven holidays, to help expose the children to their hero’s native culture. While most of the holidays were either impossible to celebrate (usually because the celebrations required multiple magic users and LazyTown’s magic population was woefully small) or required items from Sportacus’s homeland, a few were able to be celebrated by the people of LazyTown. The absolute favorite of these holidays being the Wishing Day.  
Sportacus explained that the tradition was very simple: In the days leading up to the festival, the elves would pick a special tree, one that would become the “Wishing Tree”. In their lands, it was often a tree that seemed to resonate with the earthen magic. They’d decorate the tree for the next few days, and on the last day, they’d tie pieces of paper with their wish on it to the branches. If they did a good enough job decorating the tree, or their hearts or wishes were pure enough, they may be granted by the ancient spirits. Sportacus also emphasized that the spirits loved beautiful tributes, so decorating the wish papers was an important task as well.  
Robbie smacked his forehead. “Forgot again. No wonder you’re focused.”  
Sportacus nodded, his attention turning back to his paper. He added a few glittery plastic gemstones to key points in the design, before taking a silver marker and engraving a handful of elven runes onto the paper.  
Robbie gave a half smile. “Asking for the same thing as last year?”  
“Yup!” Sportacus responded.  
“Can I find out what that is this time?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “You know as well as anyone else Robbie, that a wish only comes true if no one else knows what it is. You’ll figure out what I wished for when it comes true.”  
Robbie rolled his eyes and reached towards Sportacus’s paper. “Come on Sportacus, can’t I have just a quick peek? I don’t think the spirits would mind.”  
Sportacus lifted the paper away from Robbie’s reach. “I’m sorry Robbie, but you can’t see it!”  
Robbie paused, and bit his lip thoughtfully. A mischievous look crossed his face. “Guess I’ll have to pull out the big guns then, huh?”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare.”  
Robbie innocently shrugged his shoulders. “What? I wasn’t thinking of doing anything bad.” He smirked. “Just this.”  
Robbie leaned forward, aiming his fingers straight at the exposed part of Sportacus’s side, tickling and twiddling his fingers. Sportacus gasped, dropping his elbow in defense, as he toppled to his side.  
“R-Robbie!” Sportacus said, his words broken up by giggles. He began to laugh, his feet kicking in response. “T-That’s just m-mean!”  
“I’ll stop if you let me see your paper!” Robbie said with a chuckle, as his tickling began to move towards Sportacus’s stomach, his most ticklish spot.  
Sportacus curled inwards, peals of laughter escaping from him as he tried in vain to bat away Robbie’s hands. Robbie grinned as he saw the hero grow distracted.  
“Yoink!” Robbie cried, as he snatched the paper from Sportacus’s weakening grip. Immediately, he rolled away from the hero, turning his back to his husband.  
“Robbie!” Sportacus said more pleadingly, finally collecting himself enough to stop laughing.  
“I swear Sportacus, if all you’re trying to hide from me is a wish for sportscandy, or for everyone to play a game of soccer together, I’m – “Robbie said, his voice dying out as he finally processed the words written on the paper.

Written in small, cleanly legible letters was a single sentence. Nothing frilly, or long-winded. It was short, and to the point.

_“I wish Robbie and I could have a child.”_

Robbie’s heart dropped. Slowly he lowered the paper from his view. His nose twitched from the guilt that built in his body. The energy and adrenaline dropped from him as his shoulders loosened, his head lowering. He stayed silent for several seconds.  
Finally, he turned to look back at Sportacus, his face expressing a plea for forgiveness.  
“Sportacus…” he said quietly.  
His heart broke as he saw a smile appear on Sportacus’s face, but it wasn’t the bright and cheerful one that Robbie knew and loved. No, this one was full of sadness, and an almost resigned melancholy. It looked wrong on his usually bubbly and optimistic elf, and Robbie almost wished he’d never have to see that look on Sportacus ever again.  
“I-I know it’s a long shot. Most wishes on Wishing Day aren’t answered. But, this could be our last chance…” Sportacus responded softly, a weary, single laugh escaping him.  
It pained Robbie to acknowledge it, but he knew that Sportacus was right in some ways. Ever since the two had gotten married, Robbie knew that the one thing Sportacus wanted more than anything was a family. And for years, the two toiled and sought out adoption agencies and surrogate programs so that perhaps they could finally have their own child. But everything was against them; Sportacus, as an elf, wasn’t recognized in the systems, and with a family history and reputation like Robbie’s…well they were near the worst candidates for child adoption or surrogacy in the history of the planet.  
Indeed, as long of a shot as this was, it could be their only chance at a family.  
And Robbie only felt worse realizing that he probably messed up Sportacus’s chances at his wish being granted for a whole year.  
Robbie carefully shuffled closer to his husband, and handed back the piece of decorated paper. Sportacus nodded his thanks and gently placed the slip in a safe spot. He turned back to look at Robbie, tears brimming in his eyes.  
“I-I really didn’t know. If I knew you were wishing for something like _that_ , I wouldn’t have…” Robbie said, his voice growing shaky as he grew emotional.  
Sportacus gave him another sad smile. It shattered Robbie’s heart.  
“It’s okay Robbie, that’s all superstition anyways.” He answered weakly.  
Robbie crumbled. He wrapped an arm around his husband and pulled him close. He gently wrapped his other arm around him too. Sportacus returned his embrace, burying his face into the crook between Robbie’s neck and shoulder, tears finally escaping from him. Robbie tried to hold back his own tears as he rocked the hero back and forth.  
He smoothed the back of Sportacus’s head.  
“I’m so sorry.” Robbie whispered.  
“I forgive you, Robbie.” Sportacus responded, his voice muffled by Robbie’s shirt. A hiccup escaped him before he continued. “I just…I want this so badly. I know we’d be great parents, and I’ve always wanted a family. And…and I know that at this point it’s near impossible, but I just don’t want to give up yet until we’ve tried everything.”  
Robbie sighed, and burrowed his nose into the hero’s blonde hair. He breathed in, filling his senses with the elf’s unique and soothing scent, as he listened to Sportacus continue to hiccup and cry. Finally, steeling himself, he pulled away, looking the elf in the eyes. Robbie had to fight to keep himself from crying as he saw how red the elf’s eyes were turning, and his tear stained cheeks.  
“Listen Sportacus, we’re going to make this happen. I know that we haven’t had the best of luck so far, but something tells me that things are going to turn it out okay. What does Pinky usually say? “There’s always a way”?” Robbie said.  
Sportacus sniffled and laughed, nodding at Robbie’s comment.  
Robbie smiled warmly. “Then even if this wish thing doesn’t work, we’re going to keep trying, okay? We’ll figure it out, and in the end, we’ll have our child. Just…don’t lose hope, okay?”  
Sportacus wiped the tears from his face. “Okay.” He smiled at his husband. “I love you so much, Robbie.”  
Robbie leaned forward and kissed Sportacus on the lips. “I love you too.”

The two sat back against the bottom of the recliner, still wrapped in each other’s arms, as they both stared out the window in silence.  
After a few minutes, Robbie asked, “So, is there a way to hedge our bets? Do you think it’d help if I wished for a kid too?”  
Sportacus laughed. “Maybe? I’ve never heard of people collaborating on a wish.”  
Robbie smirked. “Then there’s a first time for everything.” He kissed the top of Sportacus’s head. “I’ll make my own wish paper later.”  
“Thank you, Robbie.” Sportacus replied softly, slipping down from Robbie’s hold to rest his head against his chest.  
Robbie sighed contently, and began to stroke Sportacus’s head as he continued to look out the window at the darkened streets of LazyTown.

\--

Throughout the festival the next day, Sportacus was alive with energy as he led the kids and adults through the customs of the wishing day. All the children eagerly placed their elaborately decorated wish paper into a small basket, most of them clearly trying their bests to hold their tongues and not spill their wishes to their friends. After placing their wishes in the basket, the kids scattered to enjoy the various activities and treats. Sportacus walked past Ziggy, who was enjoying a honey slathered roll dotted with currants. The child’s face lit up as he sunk his teeth into the fluffy and sticky treat. Sportacus sent an affectionate smile towards Robbie, who was idly chatting with Ms. Busybody about the decorations on the tree. Sportacus looked up at the oak tree’s branches. With Sportacus’s help, the kids had discovered that the oak tree in the middle of town was brimming with magic. Perhaps not as strong of magic as the ones that flow into Sportacus’s home island, but strong regardless. For several days, the kids spent their time stringing up the tree with colorful Christmas lights, windchimes, and pieces of crystal quartz off its wide and spanning branches. The sight was spectacular, and Sportacus couldn’t help but utter a low whistle as he admired its beauty.

Sportacus passed by the other children, who were gathered around Stephanie. He raised an eyebrow and moved a little closer to the distracted group.  
“Wow! That’s so cool, Stephanie! How much longer until he’s here?” asked Pixel.  
Stephanie beamed. “Just four more months! I can’t wait!”  
“That’s so cool, Stephanie. I want a younger sibling!” Stingy pouted.  
Sportacus felt a jab in his heart. As Stephanie looked up at him, he forced a smile.  
“Sportacus, look! My mom sent me an ultrasound the doctors took! Meet my baby brother!” she gushed.  
Sportacus bent down and gave a half-smile as he peered at the photograph. From the blurriness of the image, it was hard to make out the shape. But after staring at it long enough, Sportacus could see the form of the infant.  
“That’s great, Stephanie.” He said, his tone quieter than he would’ve wanted.  
Stephanie didn’t seem to notice, as she handed the picture to Trixie. Sportacus, seeing an out, sighed to himself and walked back towards the stand full of fragrant flowers.

As night fell, it was time for the main draw of the festival. Sportacus leapt up into the branches of the tree, carrying the basket at his side. He looped a string through the first of the wishes and tied a tight knot. He then hung the wish off the nearest branch. He continued this pattern, hanging every wish from the tree. All the while, he could hear the kids and adults singing below him. They sang one of the songs he’d taught them, their elvish shaky and off but nonetheless genuine and sweet.  
Sportacus took the moment to sit in the tree’s branches, dangling his feet off the edge. He closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet, spring air. The sounds of the singing rang in his ears, and he tried his hardest to focus only on the singing.

\--

“Sportacus, is everything okay?”  
  
Sportacus blinked. He then realized he’d been lying in bed for several minutes, staring blankly at the window, right towards the heavily decorated tree. He rolled over, looking at his husband. He gave him a small smile.  
“Yeah, I am. I’m just thinking.” He responded.  
Robbie gestured towards the tree. “Thinking about your wish?”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. If anyone in LazyTown deserves their wish to be granted, it’d be you. I bet the spirits would agree with me.” Robbie said with a reassuring smile.  
Sportacus smiled back. “I hope you’re right, Robbie.” His smile faded as he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just…my fingers are crossed. I really want this to work.”  
Robbie leaned over and kissed Sportacus’s forehead. “Whatever happens, we’ll work through it together, okay? Wishes or not, like I said yesterday, we’ll find a way.”  
Sportacus only silently nodded, his eyes drifting away from Robbie.  
He was still bothered and worried. Robbie could easily tell that. He decided to try an unorthodox approach. He pulled Sportacus close to his chest, running his hand up and down Sportacus’s back.

“What do you think they’ll be like?” Robbie asked.  
Sportacus looked up in confusion. “What?”  
“You know, our kid.” Robbie clarified. “I don’t know if you want a son or daughter.”  
Sportacus looked down thoughtfully for a moment. He chuckled. “Well, I don’t think their gender really matters. As long as they’re our child.”  
Robbie smiled. “I hope it’s a girl.”  
Sportacus’s brow raised as he turned back to his husband. “Really? Why?”  
Robbie shrugged. “I don’t know, it just sounds nice. I…I kind of always liked the idea of having a daughter.”  
Sportacus grinned. “I never knew you dreamt about having a family!”  
Robbie snorted. “Well come on, Sportadummy, I agreed to the idea of having a kid with you, right? I must’ve found the idea nice at some point or another.”  
“Yeah, but you said you wanted a daughter even before we were together.” Sportacus pointed out with a cheeky smile.  
Robbie blushed out of embarrassment. “Shut up.”  
Sportacus laughed. He twirled some of Robbie’s pajama shirt around his fingers as he said, “I know we couldn’t have a kid ourselves, but I still kind of hope they have your hair color.”  
Robbie looked at Sportacus in disbelief. “Mr. “Has Hair Like the Golden Sun” wants our kid to have _my_ drab hair color?”  
Sportacus gave him a look. “It’s not drab! I think it’s quite a lovely color.” His hand trailed up to play with a lock of Robbie’s hair. “It’s dark and mysterious, and it makes your eye color pop.”  
Robbie chuckled. “You’re such a dork.”  
Sportacus grinned and nuzzled Robbie’s shoulder. “What else do you hope for our baby?”  
“I hope that they can actually eat and enjoy sweets.” Robbie chuckled.  
“And I hope that they like to play outside!” added Sportacus.  
Robbie gave a single laugh. “Great, so combined we’ll have a sugar-fueled jitterbug bouncing around our house and messing up our cushions. Sounds lovely.” He said sarcastically.  
Sportacus laughed, and Robbie planted a kiss on his cheek.

They continued along that conversation for another hour, adding their hopes and dreams for their imaginary, future child.  
“I hope that they do well in school.”  
“I hope that they have lots of friends.”  
“I hope that they love life and having fun!”  
“I hope that they can enjoy cartoons with me.”  
“I hope that they enjoy the beach.”  
“I hope that they’re the kind of person that lights up the room.”  
As their conversation began to dwindle down, Sportacus let out a big yawn.  
“You about to become Sportasnore?” asked Robbie teasingly.  
Sportacus nodded.  
Robbie leaned over and turned off the bedroom light, filling the room with darkness. He settled back, wrapping his arms around Sportacus, feeling his curly locks brush against his face.  
“Robbie?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Thank you.”  
Robbie kissed Sportacus on the lips. “No problem, Sporty.”

\--

A whispering filled the air.

The breeze jostled the windchimes, their metal ringing a faint sweet tune through the silent town.

The paper wishes rustled in the breeze.

Two snapped off.

\--

Sportacus shot up into a sitting position as he heard something in the house. He blinked, the sound fading. He looked about the bedroom. Everything seemed in placed. He turned his attention to his bedside table, where the holder for his crystal sat. Had it gone off? He picked it up and turned it around in his hands. No, it was silent. Carefully, he placed it back on the table. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. He looked over at Robbie, who was still fast asleep. Sportacus smiled affectionately. He always liked seeing Robbie, who was often tired from his poor sleeping schedule and dietary choices, look so peaceful.  
He prepared to lay back down and try to fall asleep, when he heard the sound once more.  
He sat back up, and he turned towards the bedroom door. Getting up, he grabbed his dark blue bathrobe and wrapped it around himself as he crept towards the door.  
Opening it quietly, he tiptoed through the eerily silent house, his path illuminated by the pale moonlight. He heard the sound once more. It was distant, but vaguely…human? He felt his nerves build as he followed the noise towards the front door. Instinctively, he grabbed a spare baseball bat he had sitting in the living room.  
Approaching the door, he peered through the peek hole first, seeing nothing. Yet he still heard the sound. Steeling himself and taking a deep breath, Sportacus prepared his bat and swung open the door.  
No one stood there.  
Sportacus’s adrenaline died down. He looked confusedly at the empty space in front of him. He prepared to close the door once more and head back to bed, when his eyes drifted down to the doorstep.  
There was a basket by the door.  
A mixture of worry and hope filled his heart. Carefully he bent down towards the basket, his bat still at the ready. Slowly and cautiously, he lifted the top of the basket off, revealing its contents.

And when Sportacus saw what was inside, he instantly dropped his bat, cupping a hand over his mouth as he gasped in surprise.

\--

Robbie stirred awake as he felt the cool air hit his feet. He grumbled; the blankets must’ve shifted as they slept.  
As he turned over to adjust the sheets, he finally noticed the indentation in the bed where Sportacus usually was. He awoke a little more. Sportacus wasn’t in bed.  
Yawning, he sat up in bed, turning his attention towards the bathroom door. The light wasn’t on. Obviously Sportacus hadn’t had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.  
So, where was he?  
Robbie peered over to his bedside table. His crystal still sat there, silently.  
He wasn’t tending to an emergency either.  
Robbie’s nose twitched nervously, his mind jumping to the worst-case scenario. He swung his legs over the side and got out of bed. He grabbed his own, dark purple robe and wrapped it around himself, tying the sash tightly around his waist. He walked out the bedroom, just noticing the door left ajar, and strode towards the main part of the house. As he entered the living room, he glanced about, finally spotting the top of the elf’s head peeking over the couch.  
“Sportacus? What are you doing awake? It’s almost one in the morning.” Robbie asked in a near whisper.  
Sportacus turned to look at his husband, and Robbie’s confusion melted away as he saw the tears that rolled down the elf’s face.  
“Robbie…” he said softly.  
“S-Sportacus?” asked Robbie worriedly. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”  
Sportacus shook his head, and gestured Robbie over.  
Uneasily, Robbie stepped over the ledge that divided the living area from the main hallway, walking towards the couch. At first, he only saw a bundle of blankets that laid in Sportacus’s arms. But then, he noticed the blankets moving, something rising and falling within their soft hold. Sportacus leaned over and gently pulled some of the blanket away, and Robbie’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

A little face peered at him from within the blankets, their little fingers brushing against the blankets’ hold as they stretched.  
Robbie’s eyes slowly drifted back to Sportacus, who was still crying tears of joy.  
“They listened, Robbie. They actually listened.” He said near silently.  
Robbie initially didn’t answer. He was still trying to process that this had _actually happened_. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was seeing things. Nope, the baby was still there in Sportacus’s arms. His mouth dropped open, then closed as he realized he didn’t know what to say.  
“I, uh, I…just, how…” Robbie fumbled.  
Sportacus chuckled and pointed to the basket. Robbie leaned down and examined the wicker basket, spotted something small and shiny that laid on the bottom. He picked it up, holding it in the moonlight. It was a sky-blue piece of paper, covered in glitter and plastic rhinestones. A burn mark now marred the otherwise pristine slip. He looked back down at the basket and spotted his own wish paper, purple and dotted with sparkles, also marred by a burn.  
“…so, this isn’t a joke or mistake. They…they actually…” Robbie stuttered.  
Sportacus nodded.  
Robbie ran a hand through his hair, a half-smile crossing his face. “I-I can’t believe this! Those darn spirits actually came through!” he said with an energy uncharacteristic for the man. He plopped himself down on the couch next to Sportacus, his hands shakily reaching towards the infant. He stopped, retracting a bit as he grew nervous.  
“She’s your daughter too, you know. You can hold her.” Sportacus said reassuringly.  
Robbie’s heart lifted. “I-It’s a girl?” he asked.  
Sportacus nodded again.  
Tears began to prick the corners of Robbie’s eyes. Nervously, he held out his arms as Sportacus carefully laid the baby in his arms. Unsurely, Robbie shifted the infant so its head was being supported, finally getting it into a suitable cradling position. He stared at his daughter in awe, more surprise filling his heart as he spotted the sparse, fuzzy bits of jet black hair on his child’s head.  
“Geez, t-those spirits really listen well, huh? She’s got black hair like mine and everything.” Robbie noted with a chuckle. He caught a glimpse of the child’s eyes. He smiled affectionately. “And your eyes too.”  
Sportacus scooched closer to his husband, wrapping an arm around him. “So, what do you think?”  
Robbie looked up at Sportacus. With a beaming smile, he cupped the back of Sportacus’s neck and pressed his lips against his. Pulling back, he warmly said, “She’s perfect.”

Sportacus returned his kiss with another one as Robbie handed their daughter back to him. The two sat back for some time, admiring their child, both in awe that they were _starting a family_. That this little squirming bundle was theirs. And that she was perfect in every way.  
“What should we name her?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus looked at Robbie. “Do you have a name?”  
Robbie shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who wished for her. Makes sense that you’d name her. Besides, I don’t think you’d go along with “Rotteline”.” He said with a smirk.  
Sportacus laughed, then looked down into his daughter’s eyes.  
She blinked and stared up into his.  
“Bría. I think that’s her name.” Sportacus finally said.  
Robbie looked down at their daughter, nodding as he processed the name. “Bría, I like that. Very pretty. Where’d you come up with that?”  
Sportacus gave Robbie a bittersweet smile. “It’s close to my mamma’s name.”  
Robbie paused, remembering what Sportacus and Íþróttaálfurinn had told him about Sportacus’s mother Bríana. He nodded. “I think then, that it’s a perfect name for her.”  
Sportacus looked back at their daughter. He smoothed her fuzzy, black hair. “Hi, Bría. I’m your dad, Sportacus. And this is your dad, Robbie.” He said, pointing to Robbie.  
Robbie smirked, looking into his daughter’s eyes. “Hey, Bría. Good to meet you.” He then chuckled. “Maybe next time though, you could wait until a little later to show up? You woke your dad and I up.”  
Sportacus laughed quietly, and cradled Bría closer. He watched her yawn, her little eyes fluttering closed.

Sportacus sighed contently and leaned back. Robbie wrapped an arm around his husband’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes. The two smiled and leaned in close, sharing a loving and joyous kiss. As they parted, Robbie nuzzled Sportacus.  
“So, how does it feel Sportadad? You’ve got your own little kid to chase after now when they get stuck in a tree.” He said with a laugh.  
Sportacus smiled with absolute excitement. “It feels absolutely amazing. I’m just…overwhelmed. It’s all so perfect.” He said in a genuine tone.  
Robbie was a bit surprised, but nevertheless smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “What about you?”  
Robbie shrugged and looked away for a moment. “I’ll be honest, I’m nervous. I don’t have the slightest clue about taking care of infants.”  
Sportacus shrugged. “Neither do I. Guess this is a learning experience for both of us.”  
“As long as neither of us kill Bría, I guess that means we’re doing okay.” Robbie quipped with a laugh.  
Sportacus looked mortified. “Don’t joke about something like that!” he said, holding Bría closer.  
Robbie gave his husband a look. “Geez Sporta, um, protective? Whatever, I’m just kidding.”  
Sportacus gave a teasing smile. “I know. I promise I won’t be one of those dads.”  
“You say that now…” Robbie mumbled.  
“Robbie!” Sportacus said, scandalized.  
“Just saying!” Robbie said, shrugging dramatically.  
Sportacus laughed and cuddled closer. “I love you, Robbie. I’m so excited to be a dad with you.”  
A small smile appeared on Robbie face, and he cuddled up close to his husband. “I love you too, Sportacus. And…this is going to be great. I can feel it. I’m excited to do this with you too.”

The two cuddled close and drifted once more back to sleep, joining their slumbering daughter. Sportacus sighed peacefully and blissfully as he slipped into dreams of all the adventures he and Robbie would have with Bría as a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this series of one-shots! They're all pretty fluffy, or at least I plan for them to be fluff. I'll post them as I finish them, so there's no set schedule for this one. 
> 
> And yeah, here we go! Bria's birth explained. Hope you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	2. Nyctophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clockwork Robbie helps Rottenella get over her fear of the dark.

She was back in there again.

She could feel the sticky, stale air sit upon her porcelain skin, glaze upon her metallic joints and plastic eyes.   
She felt her ears hurt from the utter silence of her environment, broken only by the faint sounds of a TV or a voice shouting and ranting loudly, its context lost to her amid so much nothingness.  
She tried to leave, but her body wouldn’t listen. She begged and screamed in her mind for her legs and arms to budge, yet they remained still. Only her eyes could dart around, but that was futile as she saw nothing. She couldn’t yell, she couldn’t even sign what she needed or wanted.

And worst of all, she couldn’t see her father. She couldn’t see her beloved pet dog. She was alone again. And that idea made the oppressive darkness even worse.

Emptiness, loneliness, entrapment. Those concepts floated in her consciousness, burrowing down upon her reasoning and feelings, leaving her simultaneously exhausted and brimming with nervous energy. A pricking sensation covered her body, and the unseen walls were almost moving in on her.

Trapped. Trapped. She felt TRAPPED.

Internally, she pleaded and begged for her father. Where was he? She wasn’t alone, was she? Had…had she dreamed up their life? Was this still her fate? To be trapped in this dark, silent room? To never see the blue sky, or feel the sun’s rays upon her porcelain skin?

The room was closing in more.

And despite her lack of voice, she opened her mouth and wailed.

\--

Thrashing about, Rottenella awoke with a start. She panted and sat upright in her bed. Her eyes darted about, the darkness of her room filling her with dread as she searched for proof, _any_ proof, that her life was real and she wasn’t still locked away in the storage room.  
She looked at the foot of her bed. Sugar Pie laid there, snoozing peacefully in sleep mode.  
She looked at the blankets that she’d kicked off the bed.  
She looked at her window, which welcomed streaks of silver moonlight to illuminate her room, its silver only slightly tinted a pinkish purple color by her drapes.  
Sighing in relief, Rottenella calmed down a bit more. She was here. That was a dream.

But just to make sure, she carefully got out of bed. Making her way towards her door, she crept out into the hallway, sneaking quietly towards her father’s bedroom. She creaked open the door and peeked inside. Laying on an uncovered mattress, his key reflecting the moonlight, was Robbie. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully.  
Rottenella gave a single nod. Everything was how it should be.

She tiptoed back to her bedroom and laid back in her bed. Resting her head against her pillow, she tried to fall back asleep. But the memory of her nightmare still loomed freshly in her mind. The darkness, the silence, the emptiness. Rottenella didn’t want to experience that again.  
Squinting at the moonlight, Rottenella got out of bed once more and instead sat by her window, bathing in the moon’s silver beams. She sighed peacefully as she embraced the existence of light, which drove away the terrifying darkness.  
“ _Perhaps I’ll just stay up tonight. I don’t need sleep anyways. That way I won’t have to experience all of that again._ ” She reasoned to herself, as she sat there staring up at the night sky.

\--

Robbie grinned as he strode out of the store, waving another goodbye to his boss and coworkers as he made his way towards Rottenella’s school. While he loved his job, picking up his daughter was always his favorite part of the day. He couldn’t wait to hear about all the things she learned about, and all the fun activities she got to do that day. He loved how much she lit up talking about her gym class, where they often danced, or her music class. Or the books her teacher would eagerly coax her to read, mostly because her teacher was fascinated that a third grader could so deftly read and comprehend the works of Tolstoy, Asimov, and Dickens. Robbie wasn’t quite ready for those ones, but he did love when her teacher would assign the general reading books. Rottenella would read those ones in an hour, so Robbie often would borrow them from her for the whole week.   
As Robbie approached the school, however, he was surprised to see Rottenella’s teacher standing next to her. Rottenella’s gaze was dipped down towards the ground; she didn’t even look up once she noticed her father approaching. Nevertheless, Robbie smiled his trademark smile and extended a hand towards her teacher.  
“Hello, Mrs. Brown! Robbie is here to pick up Rottenella!” he said cheerily.  
Mrs. Brown couldn’t help but chuckle a little as she shook his hand. “Right on time as always, Mr. Rotten!” She looked at him more seriously, pulling him aside and away from Rottenella. “I need to talk to you about Rottenella. You see, we had a little…incident in the classroom today.”  
Robbie’s eyes widened. “An in-cee-dent?”  
“It means a sort of issue.” Explained Mrs. Brown. “Well, there’s actually two issues. The first is your daughter repeatedly fell asleep in class. I feel that, perhaps, she’s going to bed too late? When’s her usual bedtime?”  
“Rottenella goes to bed at nine o’clock! Sharp!” Robbie beamed.  
Mrs. Brown bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well, that is enough time for a child her age. That can’t be it.” She shook her head. “Maybe it connects to the other issue. You see, Mr. Rotten, we were playing a game of Heads-up 7-Up with the class which I turned the lights off for. And as soon as I turned off the lights, Rottenella began panicking and begged me to turn the lights back on. She wouldn’t calm down unless I did! I think, perhaps, she may have a fear of the dark?”  
Robbie’s eyes widened. He glanced over at Rottenella, who still didn’t look him in the eyes. He looked down thoughtfully. He had noticed that she seemed more nervous having a completely darkened room than other kids her age, at least from what he gathered talking to other parents. She always insisted upon sleeping with her drapes pulled back, and during hide and seek she generally avoided hiding in closets or attics. How could he have missed all that.  
“Robbie thinks you may be right.” He said with a nod.  
Mrs. Brown smiled. “Luckily, this is a common problem for kids. I decided to print off some articles about dealing with a fear of the dark. You should read over these!”  
Robbie happily took the stack of paper. “Thank you, Mrs. Brown!” he said, and gave her a quick hug.  
Mrs. Brown froze for a moment, before giving him a quick hug back. She knew Robbie was a well-meaning man…robot…person, and she knew little about his background. So, she knew his, at times, shaky grasp of social conventions wasn’t harmful. She sometimes just had to remember that fact.  
Robbie then let go and walked over to his daughter, extending his hand.  
“Ready to go, Ella?” he asked cheerily.  
Rottenella only gave a slight nod, as she walked hand-in-hand with her father back home.

\--

Robbie flipped another page over as he stirred the mac and cheese. The article Mrs. Brown had given him was quite fascinating and, he hoped, would be helpful in helping Rottenella get over her fear of the dark. The article told him that many children’s fear of the dark came from believing that something exists in the darkness, something evil and violent. He felt uneasy reading that part. He couldn’t imagine being so terrified of something chasing after you each time you went to sleep, or each time the sun set, being nervous of what could attack you in the night. He felt glad that Mrs. Brown had pointed out Rottenella’s fear; now he could actually help her.  
He glanced back at the kitchen table. Rottenella sat there, dutifully doing her usual homework, reading her copy of “Fahrenheit 451”. She seemed a little more relaxed than earlier, albeit she still looked very tired. She jotted down some notes on her assignment sheet as Robbie served her a bowl of the cheesy pasta. She gave a small smile before returning to her homework.  
Robbie sat across from her with his own bowl. He contemplated asking her about the issue that moment, but considering that he had no clue how to begin talking to her about her fears, he figured it might be a good idea to wait a little. He mixed up the steaming hot macaroni as Sugar Pie barked under his chair. He smiled and petted the robotic dog.  
After he delivered dinner to their neighbors, Robbie glanced up at the clock. 8:30, almost bedtime.  
He cheerily walked over to Rottenella, who now sat at the table drawing.  
“It’s almost nine o’clock Ella! It’s pajama time!” he announced with a smile.  
Rottenella froze, her expression locking in a look of brief panic before she ushered it away. She gave a weak smile to her father before she got up to go upstairs.  
Robbie, however, caught that glimpse of fear in his daughter’s eyes. He waited for her to dress in her pajamas before he entered her bedroom, her plastic eyes trained upon him.  
He sat down at the foot of her bed, Sugar Pie joining him. He tried his best to give her a casual smile, but he figured that his expression betrayed his worry.  
“Mrs. Brown told me you fell asleep in class today.” He began quietly.  
Rottenella looked down guiltily.  
“Ro – I’m not upset, if you’re worried.” He added. He looked at her nervously. “I am…I am worried about you.”  
Rottenella looked back up.  
“Why were you so tired today? Didn’t you go to bed last night?” he asked.  
Rottenella paused, shame clouding her face before she finally sighed and signed, “Didn’t sleep. Stayed up all night.”  
Robbie’s eyes widened in horror. “T-That’s not good for you!” he exclaimed. He shifted a little closer to his daughter. “Why did you not sleep?”  
Rottenella looked away, biting her lip. She signed, “Nightmare.”  
“Of what?” Robbie asked nervously.  
Rottenella paused, her eyes trailing over to her open backpack. Reaching over, she pulled out an old homework assignment that she’d doodled on. She handed the drawing to her father.  
Robbie held it up to her lamp, his heart sinking as he recognized the image.

It was a crude crayon drawing of a box, drawn in black crayon, with scribbles of black crossing through the box’s inside. Carboard boxes were drawn in brown, surrounding a small figure in purple. There were blue tears running down the figure’s face. Some of the black scribbles were hastily drawn close to the purple girl, with some lines crossing over her body.

He slowly dropped the paper, his expression one of sympathy. Rottenella was about to break into tears.  
“Your…your nightmare was about the storage room?” he asked softly.  
Rottenella nodded slowly.  
Robbie brushed some hair from her face, his heart breaking as he saw how distressed she looked. “Is that why you’re afraid of the dark?”  
Rottenella quietly sobbed. She lifted her shaking hands and signed several broken sentences. “Dark is like room. Empty, silent. Hate silence. Hate darkness. So alone. Couldn’t find you, couldn’t move. Never want to go back. Afraid I have to go back. Afraid I’m still there.”  
Robbie nearly cried himself as he watched his daughter tremble and shake. She fell forward and buried her face into his chest, clutching at his pajama shirt as she let out muted, choked gasps and sobs. Robbie, unknowing of what to do, pulled her closer and smoothed her hair, hushing her cries.  
“Shhh, it’s okay Ella, it’s okay.” He whispered. He rested his cheek against the top of her head protectively, trying to fight back his own urge to cry with her as he rocked her back and forth. He sat with there for a long time, just feeling her shake and shiver, muted cries pouring from her as she hiccupped and gasped. All the while, Robbie just kept reassuring her with repeated statements of, “it’s okay” and “I’m here”, as he continued to smooth the back of her head. He nearly broke as he wondered about how long she had been dealing with the fear. The fear of isolation, darkness, and silence.

Once he felt Rottenella’s crying settle down, he gently loosened his hold. He looked down at his daughter, seeing the still sad look in her eyes.  
“I don’t want to go back.” She signed.  
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “But we’re not? We’re free now, this is our home. We don’t have to go into the storage room.”  
“I know, I just…” she signed, sighing as she paused. “…every time I’m in the dark, I remember being trapped in storage. I remember feeling so helpless, so alone. And how I never want to feel that way again.”  
Robbie nodded, rubbing her back gently as he thought about what he was going to say. Then, an idea. Slowly, he got up and walked over to the window, with Rottenella watching him in confusion.  
“What are you doing?” she asked.  
Pulling the drapes closed, he gave her a reassuring look. “Just a minute.”  
Rottenella felt her nerves begin to fire as her room was cloaked in darkness. Robbie walked over to her and picked her up, cradling her as he walked back towards the window. Still holding her, he drew her closer to his chest.   
He could feel her begin to tremble once again, and could feel her little hands dig at his shirt fearfully.   
“It’s okay, Ella. Everything is going to be okay. Just take deep breaths and remember, I’m here. And if it’s too much, I’ll open the drapes again, okay?” he said calmly.  
Rottenella slowly nodded, her body still shivering.  
Robbie continued to rub her back, feeling his daughter continue to squirm and shake. Though his ears could’ve been messing with him, he thought he heard a distressed squeak slip from his daughter.  
“What are you thinking right now, Ella?” he asked softly.  
Rottenella looked up at her father, unsure if he could even see her right now. She remembered how, unusually, he seemed to know what she was thinking. At least he did back when they first escaped. Perhaps it’d work again.  
“ _I feel the sticky air. I’m back there again. It’s so stale in that room._ ” She thought.  
Robbie nodded.   
She continued. “ _I feel…alone. I can’t hear anything. I-I can’t move…_ ”  
“You can.” Robbie assured her.   
“ _But I can’t! I…is there no one here? I can’t see or hear anything! I’m trapped._ ”  
“I’m still here, Ella. I’m in this with you. Remember where we are. We’re in your bedroom right now, safe and sound.” He said in a hushed tone.  
Rottenella felt the atmosphere lift a little. She listened for the sound that plagued her nightmares, of a distant TV set and yelling. In its place, she heard the crickets outside her window, and her father’s whispered assurances.   
“When it’s dark, think about things that you love. Colorful flowers, the crickets, books, the sunny sky, the fresh air. That’s all real. The darkness, the silence: that’s all a bad memory. It can’t harm you, you’re here now and very brave.”  
She breathed in and out carefully, her shaking slowing down.  
“That’s my girl. You’ve got this.” Robbie praised, laying a kiss on the top of her head as he continued to rock her back and forth.

Once her shaking stopped, Rottenella looked up at Robbie, weary but calm.  
“How do you feel now?” he asked.  
“ _I feel…not trapped. I’m here._ ” She thought.  
He smiled, and hugged her tightly. “I knew you could do it, Ella.”  
She hugged back with a smile.  
“Do you think you could do that for tonight? Or not yet?” Robbie asked gently.  
Rottenella thought for a moment, before sheepishly signing, “I think I’m not ready to be alone in the dark yet.”  
Robbie nodded. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’ve made a lot of progress for tonight, and I’m very proud of you for that.” Standing up, he cradled Rottenella in his arms. “Come on, we’ll go make our blanket fort downstairs. We can sleep down there for tonight.”

Rottenella smiled, laying her head against her father’s chest. The two hastily made their blanket fort, complete with tons of pillows and blankets. Rottenella laid down in her half of the fort, watching her father lay down on his side. He rolled over and gave her once last hug, before settling back on his side.  
“Good night, Ella.” He said quietly.  
“Good night, dad.” She mouthed back.  
She laid back and closed her eyes, her senses being cloaked in darkness once more. But the fear wasn’t as present. Instead, she finally found some peace in the dark, reassured that when she opened her eyes, she’d be very much still here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't leave this universe alone. I may have to write more for it in the future. In the meantime, enjoy this little drabble. Poor Rottenella; can't expect to be consciously locked up in a dark, silent room for over a year without the ability to move and NOT have some form of trauma from the experience.
> 
> Also just Clockwork Robbie going all dad-mode is my jam, so that may be enough to fuel more one-shots.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this and thank you for reading!


	3. Sweet Life Continues in the Breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bria wakes up in a strange place and meets someone new, yet familiar.
> 
> Title taken from a quote by Jack Kerouac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note on ages:  
> Bria is roughly 3 years old in this story, close to 4.

“Okay, little spider monkey, it’s time for bed!”

Bría stopped mid run, turning towards her father with a little pout.  
“Aww! I want to stay up more!” she said sadly.  
Sportacus gave her a warm smile and shook his head. “Sorry Bría, but it’s almost 8:08, and you know that’s bed time!”  
Bría batted her eyes and looked up at her dad. “H-How about, we…we stay up a _little_ later? Then go to bed?”  
Sportacus gave a soft sigh, his heart melting a bit as he saw the puppy-dog expression his daughter was giving him. Steeling his decision, he answered, “Last time we stayed up later, you almost fell asleep in your Cheerios! And you need to be well rested, if you want to play outside tomorrow!”  
“But papa says we have rain tomorrow.” Bría responded.   
“Well you can’t stomp around in the puddles if you’re falling asleep. Come on, no more bargaining.” Sportacus said with an affectionate tone.  
“Aww, no fair!” protested Bría.  
Sportacus chuckled. He put on his most silly grin. “Besides, if you don’t sleep, then _I_ don’t sleep. And you’ll get the grumpy slumber monster tomorrow! Come to think of it, we stayed up last night. Maybe it’s the slumber monster who’s got you right now!” Sportacus said with a growl. Reaching forward, he picked his daughter up and carried her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  
 Bría loudly laughed and giggled, her tiny hands lightly hitting his back. “Noo! Not the slumber monster!”  
Sportacus gave a dramatic cackle. “Ah! The slumber monster claims another victim! Time to take you to the land of sleep!” He gave an exaggerated gasp. “But not before the tickling!” he said, as he lightly tickled his daughter’s feet.  
Bría squeaked and laughed, his little feet kicking around as Sportacus tickled them.  
“Oh no! You’re mean, slumber monster!” she cried between chuckles.  
Sportacus grinned. “That’s why they call me a monster!” he said, giving a theatrical laugh.

As Sportacus carried his daughter to her bedroom, he stopped momentarily once he saw Robbie, dressed in his robe and cap, leaning against the door frame to their bedroom.  
“I see the slumber monster claims another victim?” he asked with a small smile.  
Bría lifted her head. “He got me, papa! Help me fight the slumber monster!”  
Robbie shook his head with a smirk. “You’re out of luck kid. I’m in cahoots with the slumber monster.”  
“What’s a “cahoots”?” asked Bría.  
“It means he’s helping me.” Explained Sportacus.  
Bría’s eyes widened. “Oh no!” she exclaimed.  
“That’s right!” Robbie said, booping his daughter’s nose. “Which means it’s your bedtime, little lady.   
“Aww…” Bría pouted.  
Robbie placed a little kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Bría.” He said with a smile.  
“Night papa!” she said, as she was carried down the hallway towards her bedroom.

Sportacus turned on the lights, illuminating the green-painted room, its walls decorated with butterfly decals and pictures of different wild animals. He tip-toed past books left on the floor (mostly library books full of pictures of exotic beasts) and discarded exploring tools like binoculars, nets, and jars.  
“Looks like tomorrow’s a cleaning day, missy. Your room’s a little messy!” commented Sportacus.  
“No it’s not. I have a sis-them.” Bría stated matter-of-factly.  
Sportacus looked at his daughter curiously. “Now where did you learn that?”  
“Ziggy said he had one!” she said beaming.  
Sportacus shook his head and chuckled quietly. His daughter got along well with all the LazyTown children, but she seemed to especially get along with Ziggy. Even though the child was pushing past 11, he still had the energy and optimism to get along just fine with his little three-year-old. Sportacus had an inkling that Ziggy would be one of those “child at heart” kind of people, always able to easily access the wonder and optimism that came with being so young.  
Pulling back the sheets, Sportacus hoisted his daughter up and laid her down gently on the bed. He tucked her in carefully.  
“Hmm, I think you’re missing something.” Sportacus noted, tapping his chin.  
Bría pointed to the stuffed animals at the foot of her bed. “Ms. Bobo!”   
Sportacus nodded. He reached over and grabbed the stuffed bear. “That’s what was missing!” he said, handing the toy to Bría. She held it close, stuffing it under her blankets.  
Sportacus smiled, and placed a small kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Bría.”  
“Pabbi?” asked Bría, her expression much more serious.  
“Yes, Bría?” replied Sportacus.  
“What was grandma like?” she asked curiously.

Sportacus froze, his smile slipping slightly. He chuckled uneasily. “Well, where did that come from?”  
“Stefnie was…told me about her grandma! S-She made her cookies! And…and gave her BIG hugs! And,” Bría said, pausing for a moment. “I-I never met grandma.”  
Sportacus’s heart grew heavy. He adjusted Bría’s blankets, a sadder smile crossing his face. “Your grandma was…amazing. She was a wonderful woman, with the kindest heart and most gentle soul. Yet, at the same time, she was fierce. In her youth, she was a warrior. A captain of the elven guard.”  
“Like granpabbi!” exclaimed Bría excitedly.  
Sportacus chuckled. “No, not quite like grandpabbi. While he travelled the world helping people, your grandma protected the islands from dangerous beasts and intruders. I remember your grandpabbi telling me she wielded a warhammer, and swung it like a baseball bat.”  
Bría gasped. “Grandma was super strong?”  
Sportacus nodded. “Very. So many people looked up to her.”  
Bría nodded. She looked up at her father with a cautious question. “Do you think grandma would’ve liked our house?”  
Sportacus looked around her room, then nodded. “I think she would’ve. She always liked being someplace full of noise and life, and this house has no shortage of that.”  
“And papa?”  
Sportacus laughed. “She might’ve though he was odd at first, but I’m sure she would’ve loved him too.”  
“Runar and I?”  
Sportacus paused, a sad and warm smile appearing on his face. He stroked his daughter’s hair gently. “Oh Bría, she would’ve _adored_ your brother and you.” His smile fell. “It’s…it’s the one thing I wish she could’ve been here for.” He said quietly.  
Bría looked up worriedly at her father. “Pabbi?” she asked.  
Sportacus blinked. “Hmm?”  
Bría sat up, and brushed a tear that Sportacus didn’t realize he’d shed off his face. “Why are you sad?” she asked.  
Sportacus smiled weakly and hugged his daughter. “I’m sorry, Bría. I just miss your grandmother sometimes.”  
Bría hugged her father back.  
Sportacus pulled away, and gave Bría a small smile. “But, I just think about how, wherever she is, she probably can see all of us right now. So, while she may not be here with us, she’s still here in a way.”  
“Grandma is watching us?”  
“In a way.” Sportacus responded with a chuckle. He kissed his daughter’s forehead once more, before getting up and walking back towards the door.  
“Good night, Bría. Love you.” Sportacus said softly, as he switched off the light.  
“Love you too, Pabbi. Good night.” Bría responded, as Sportacus closed her door.

Cloaked in the darkness, Bría snuggled up in her blankets. She stared at her window, looking up at the stars in the sky. She wondered if her grandmother could see her at that moment.

“ _I wish I could’ve met you, Grandma._ ” Bría thought to herself, as she drifted off to sleep.

\--

When Bría awoke, she found herself no longer in her cozy bedroom, surrounded by her blankets and toys.

Instead, she woke up to the sensation of grass under her body, with similar tall strands surrounding her and rustling in the low breeze. She blinked, seeing the bright light of the sun above her, its rays filtering through the green leaves and slender branches. She quickly shot up into a sitting position, a few dandelion puffs and grass blades falling from her untamed mop of hair. She looked about, seeing that she was surrounded by thin trees that weren’t as tall as the ones that grew around her house and bushes of wildflowers. In the distance, she could hear the crash of the ocean waves, the slight saltiness mixing with the smell of wildflowers and wild grass in the air. A few birds chirped in the trees, their voices clear but Bría couldn’t spot a single one.

“ _I like this place._ ” she thought to herself.

Slowly, she brought herself up onto her feet. Looking down, she realized she was still dressed in her favorite, bright purple footie pajamas. The one her papa made for her a while ago. Why was she dressed in her pajamas if she was out in the woods? Or, the coast? Bría had no clue where she was supposed to be, and from what she could tell, there was no one else nearby.

“Hello?” she said, calling to whomever might be nearby.

No response.

Bría began to grow nervous. She started wandering around, examining the trees that surrounded her little grove of grass. She ran a hand up and down its bark, flinching as she felt the tree moan and rumble. Wait…rumble? Did trees make noises? Bría took a step back, looking at the tree warily.  
As she stepped back, she found herself surrounded by a vortex of colorful petals, which danced around with a few making a home within her black hair. She sputtered as a few went up her nose or in her mouth. As the petals slowed, a few brushed past her cheek, turning her attention to a footpath that led up a small hill. How did she not notice that before?  
Bría followed the trail up the hill, her footie bottoms clicking against the natural, stone steps. Her eyes would trail over towards the flowers that neatly lined the path, admiring the tall sunflowers and fragrant posies that dotted the grass. She sniffed the air as a warm and sweet smell filled her nose, coaxing a smile from her. She looked up, noticing a house coming into view, a trail of smoke pouring out of its chimney.  
She skipped up to the house’s porch, noticing the door left ajar. Cautiously, she pushed it open, and glanced inside. The interior was brightly lit, with furniture made of warmly colored wood and the air smelling like fresh bread. Her mouth watered at the scent. Her attention was then caught to the faint sound of someone humming. Carefully, she entered the house, walking towards the sound of the humming. She looked about the house as she did, noting the many vases full of flowers that decorated the home. The humming led Bría to the kitchen, freezing as she spotted the source of the humming. She didn’t freeze in time, however, to prevent her foot from eliciting a creak out of the floorboards.

The woman stopped, and as she turned towards Bría, Bría couldn’t hold back a gasp. The woman was stunningly beautiful, in such a way that a glow almost seemed to surround her. She had long, golden hair that ended right at her shoulders, its locks wavy and textured from the salty ocean air. A pair of pointed ears peeked out past the wavy strands. Her eyes were a bright blue, almost an icy blue. Her skin was pale, though not without a healthy shade of pink. Bría noticed the scars that dotted her cheek and nose, as well as the ones that stretched across her strong, ropy arms. She was clad in a mossy green, short sleeved dress, that was topped with a red sash around her waist.  
The woman paused upon seeing Bría, a bright smile crossing her face.  
“Well, hello there! I didn’t expect any visitors today.” She said with a warm smile. Her voice was sweet and smooth, yet held a level of depth and authority that Bría didn’t expect.  
Bría shrunk back. Normally she was quite an outgoing girl, but suddenly she felt a little self-conscious. Perhaps partly because she realized that she’d just entered a stranger’s home and was caught, something that her pabbi had taught her to not do.  
“Oh, no need to be shy! I promise I don’t bite.” The woman said reassuringly. She bent down to Bría’s level. “What’s your name?”  
“B-Bría.” She quietly responded.  
The woman’s eyes sparkled. “Bría…what a lovely name. Quite like mine, actually.” She noted with a chuckle.  
Bría, gathering a little more confidence, commented, “I like your humming.”  
“Why, thank you Bría. That’s very sweet of you.” The woman said brightly. She gestured to the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I just made some bread if you’d like some.”  
Bría nodded, toddling into the kitchen.  
The woman continued to hum to herself as she pulled the bread out of the oven, amazing Bría as she did so without oven mitts.  
“Pabbi said that burns your hands!” Bría exclaimed.  
The woman laughed. “Your pabbi is right. Luckily for me, my hands have these “callouses”, so the heat doesn’t bother me as much.”  
Bría gasped as the woman presented her hands. Bría ran her fingers across the toughened skin, admiring their toughness and resilience.  
“Wow, callouses.” Bría noted quietly.  
The woman chuckled. “Neat, aren’t they? They took a long time to form and it definitely hurt, but they do come in handy.” She patted Bría’s back, leading her towards a step stool. “Come along now, let’s make ourselves useful. You can help me scoop out some preserves for the bread.”  
Bría nearly tripped as she was led to the stool. She clambered up the wooden stool, bringing herself up to the counter, her chin touching the counter’s edge. The woman slid a clear jar filled with strawberry preserves towards her hands.  
“Stwaberries!” exclaimed Bría.  
“Do you like strawberries, Bría?” asked the woman.  
Bría enthusiastically nodded. “Yup! I like them a lot.” She said, as she began to messily scoop generous amounts of strawberry preserves into a small, wooden bowl.  
“They’re my favorite too. Especially these ones. My good neighbor Barði gave them to me, and since I know they’re extra sweet I save them for when guests come by.” The woman noted.  
“B-But, you didn’t know I was coming!”   
The woman winked. “Perhaps I might’ve had a slight inkling that someone special was coming by. My intuition hasn’t steered me wrong often.”

The woman led Bría towards a small dining table that sat by the back door, allowing the smell of ocean and flowers to fill the room. A few lazy butterflies fluttered around the wooden table, their wings a clean white color. The woman set down the sliced bread and teapot as Bría placed the bowl of preserves and teacups down by their spots.  
The two sat there for some time, quietly enjoying their bread topped with preserves (which was some of the best bread Bría had ever had) and herbal tea. Bría occasionally looked about the room, gazing at the various decorations on the wall. Her attention soon drifted to the fireplace mantel, where a few photos sat on its stone ledge. One particular photo, however, caught her attention.  
She carefully hopped off her chair, walking over to the fireplace.  
“Bría? What are you looking at?” asked the woman.  
Bría didn’t answer as she examined the photograph. She saw that the woman in the photo was the one sitting at the table. She was holding a baby in the picture. She gasped, however, as she soon recognized the man that stood by her side.  
“You know my granpabbi!” Bría said happily.  
An affectionate smile crossed the woman’s face as she carefully got up and joined Bría by the fireplace.  
“You’re right, I do know your granpabbi. I know him very well indeed.” She said. She traced her finger around the photo frame.   
“Are you friends?” asked Bría.  
The woman looked at her. “The best of friends. So much so, we married each other.”  
Bría paused. She began to put two and two together. As the thoughts clicked, she gasped loudly. She looked up at the woman with twinkling eyes.  
“G-Grandma?” she asked softly.  
Bríana smiled warmly, and bent down to Bría’s level. “Hello, Bría. It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Bría, hesitating for a brief moment, leapt into her grandmother’s arms, hugging her tightly. She felt her grandmother return her hug.  
“It’s really you! I’m meeting you!” Bría remarked excitedly, her voice slightly muffled by Bríana’s dress.  
Her grandmother laughed. “I was waiting for you to figure out who I was! Then again, I guess you wouldn’t recognize me. Your pabbi didn’t take any family pictures before he left here.”  
Bría pulled away and glanced around the room. “This was pabbi’s home?”  
Bríana nodded. “Yes, this is where we lived. Your pabbi Magnus, myself, and your grandpabbi, Íþróttaálfurinn.”  
Bría smiled warmly at her grandmother. “Your house is so pretty.” She gushed.  
Bríana smiled back. “Thank you, I’m quite fond of it myself.”  
Bría’s smile was bright and wide as she hugged her grandmother once more. “I thought I’d never get to meet you. I’m…I’m so happy.”  
Bríana returned the hug, pulling her granddaughter close to her chest. “I’m so happy that I get to meet you too. I know how much your pabbi adores you, so to meet you in person is quite a treat.”  
Bría pulled away. “So pabbi was being true! You are looking out for us!”  
Bríana laughed. “Well, I’m not too good at staying away.” She looked at her granddaughter expectantly. “But now that you’re here, what would you like to do?”

Bría paused. She’d never considered what she’d want to do if she met her grandmother. Living in a house with two fathers, she barely even knew what you were supposed to do with a _mother_ , let alone a grandmother. Still, she remembered a little about what Stephanie said she did with her grandmother. Perhaps that’d be a good place to start.  
“Do you have a garden?” Bría asked.  
Bríana grinned. “Of course, I do! Come with me, I think you’ll quite like it.”  
She took her granddaughter’s hand and led her out the back door, rounding the house until they reached a quaint, but vibrant garden blooming with vegetables of every kind.  
Bría’s mouth gaped open. “You have so much sportscandy!”  
Bríana winked. “It helps when you have a little magic to coax the sprouts along.” She pulled out a bucket and gloves seemingly out of nowhere and moved towards a row of bean plants. “How would you like to help me pick vegetables?”  
Bría’s face lit up. “Yes! I’d love to help!”  
The two sat for quite some time, picking various vegetables and sharing bits about their lives. Bría shared as much as she could about school, the children in LazyTown, her papa Robbie, her brother Runar, and her pabbi.  
“Are you going to visit Runar?” she asked hopefully.  
Bríana smiled. “When he’s a little older, yes. I don’t think he’d know who I am right now.” She picked a cucumber from the vine. “How is your pabbi?”  
Bría smiled. “He’s such a great pabbi! Both him and papa are the best parents in the whole wide world!” Her smile faded. “He was sad when I talked about you though.”  
“I know that your pabbi misses me sometimes. I miss him too.” Bríana said quietly.  
“I could tell him that!” Bría suggested.  
Bríana smiled warmly. “That would be wonderful, my dear. And if you do, tell him I’m so proud of everything he’s done, and that I love him very much. But when you do, make sure to call him ‘Maggi’.”  
Bríana raised an eyebrow. “Maggi?”  
“It’s what his father and I called him when he was a boy. That way, he’ll know it’s me.” She said with a wink.  
Bría nodded. “I’ll do that, grandma.”  
In turn, Bríana told Bría everything she knew about the Elven Islands (urging Bría to ask Sportacus for a visit), her pabbi at her age, and the adventures she had in the elven guard.

As they sat and picked vegetables, talking casually and happily, Bríana suddenly sat up, her ears pointing up in alarm.  
“Grandma? What’s wrong?” Bría asked worriedly.  
Bríana hushed her granddaughter, and turned towards the beach. Bría followed her gaze and gasped in shock. Crawling up from the sandy dunes was a beast that eluded description, oozing slime and muck in its path as it slunk up the grasses, killing the plants and flowers that fell under its body.  
“G-Grandma? What is that?” Bría asked, growing increasingly more scared.  
Bríana stood up, her warhammer suddenly in her hands. “Bría, stay put. I’ll be right back.” She said calmly, before charging forward with a shrill scream, the monster roaring in response.  
Bría watched in awe as her grandmother sped straight at the beast, deftly swinging her weapon and striking the monster on the side of its head. The creature groaned and spat up oily bile onto the ground, Bría sticking out her tongue in disgust as she saw its vomit melt through the dirt. Bríana stuck her ankles together and leapt over the beast, spinning into multiple flips before slamming her hammer onto its spine, closing her eyes as the slime flew upwards. The creature shrieked and writhed, its claws flailing desperately in Bríana’s direction. One connected with her shoulder blade, and she was thrown to the side.  
“Grandma!” Bría cried out in panic.  
“I’m fine, Bría! Just stay put!” Bríana assured her granddaughter. Picking up her hammer, she whispered a string of ancient words under her breath. The warhammer glowed a bright red color, her eyes flashing momentarily the same color. She stared down the beast, snarling as it tried to step towards her home. The monster roared, and charged towards her.  
“Dissipate!” screamed Bríana, as she brought the hammer down on the monster’s head. As soon as the head struck the monster’s skin, the creature melted into a pile of slime, the ooze zipping off in opposite directions, slinking back down into the earth.  
Bríana panted, and pulled her warhammer to her side. Bría, seeing the danger gone, ran to her grandmother’s side, throwing her arms around her leg.  
“I’m so sorry about that, Bría! I hope I didn’t scare you!” Bríana asked worriedly, ruffling her granddaughter’s hair.  
Bría looked up, her eyes twinkling. “You were AMAZING, grandma! Pabbi told me you were a great warrior, but you are really awesome!”  
Bríana’s gave an awkward half-smile. “Well, thank you! I’m glad that didn’t panic you.” She swung her hammer back over her shoulder. “I imagine that’s not what you had in mind to do together, so did you have something else you wanted to do?”  
Bría smiled. “Just anything. I want to be with you.”

And so, for the next few hours, Bría and her grandmother did anything they could think of together. Bríana brushed her granddaughter’s hair, braiding it and threading in wildflowers. Bría showed her grandmother the different tricks she saw her pabbi do, amazed to see her grandmother easily accomplish the same stunts. They ran through the fields, catching insects and petting the local sheep. They hiked down to the beach, picking through sea shells and debris to find weird and interesting sea life.  
They had just sat down to work on a quilt when Bría heard another voice.  
“What is it, Bría? Is something wrong?” asked her grandmother.  
“Sorry, I heard a voice!” Bría noted.

The voice came through much louder.

_“Bría, it’s time to wake up!”_

Bría’s eyes widened. “Pabbi?” she called. She looked around, but her pabbi was nowhere in sight.  
Bríana gave a sad smile. “I think that means it’s time for you to go, Bría.”  
Bría looked at her grandmother with an upset look. “No! I just got here! Please grandma, don’t make me leave!”  
Bríana smoothed the hair from her granddaughter’s face. “I would love for you to stay with me, Bría, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. Where I am now, you cannot stay. It’s not your time yet. Someday, you’ll be able to stay with me if you’d like. But for now, you need to wake up.”  
Tears rolled down Bría’s face as she hugged her grandmother. “I’ll miss you too much though.”  
Bríana hugged her back. “Just remember Bría, I’m always with you. Even when you can’t see me, I’m there with you. And don’t forget, you can always come back here, if you need to see me.”  
Bría sniffled. “Promise?”  
Bríana gave her another squeeze. “I promise.”  
“I love you, grandma.” Bría said softly.  
“I love you too, my dear.” Bríana replied.

_“Bría? Sleepyhead, it’s time for breakfast! Time to wake up!”_

Bríana let go of her granddaughter reluctantly. “Now run along, your pabbi is waiting for you.”  
Bría stepped back, looking at her grandmother sadly, before turning and running towards the path, the light encompassing her vision.

\--

Bría blinked her eyes groggily as her sight refocused. She soon realized she was being gently shaken by her father, dressed in his blue robe, his blonde locks messy and leaving his ears visible.  
“You must’ve had a good sleep! You usually wake up super quick!” noted Sportacus.  
Bría yawned and nodded. “I did!” Her eyes grew wide, and she looked at her pabbi with an excited expression. “Pabbi, you’ll never guess who I met last night?”  
Sportacus smiled and sat on the side of her bed. “I could try. Did you meet Steve Irwin?”  
Bría shook her head and laughed. “No, Pabbi! I met grandma!”  
Sportacus’s grinned. “Wow! You did?”  
Bría nodded. “Yup! W-We baked bread together, and…and played games! And she beat up this mean, nasty monster that went _squish_ and _squick_!” she said, throwing her arms up wide to emphasize how large the monster was.  
Sportacus chuckled. “That’s quite a dream, Bría! Sounds exciting!”  
Bría’s expression fell and she gave her pabbi a serious look. “But it wasn’t a dream! I really met grandma!” Her face lit up as she remembered something. “S-She told me to tell you something!”  
“Did she now? What did she say?” asked Sportacus curiously.  
“She said, ‘Tell Maggi that I miss him, and I’m proud of him, and I love him’.” Bría recounted with a nod.

Sportacus’s smile fell, a shock running through his system. His fingers curled around his pajama pants.  
Bría looked up worriedly at her pabbi. “Pabbi? Are you sad again?”  
“H-How…no one calls me Maggi anymore.” Sportacus said quietly. He ran a hand through his hair. “Your grandpabbi did, when I was kid, but he doesn’t call me that now. So how…” His eyes grew even wider, and a few tears trickled down his face.  
“Oh no! I’m sorry Pabbi, don’t cry!” Bría said fearfully, using the long-sleeve of her pajamas to wipe away his tears.  
Sportacus looked at his daughter, a sad half-smile forming on his face. “I…you really did meet her.”  
Bría laughed. “Dat’s what I’ve been saying!”  
Sportacus chuckled. “I…I can’t believe…” he said, more tears falling down his face. He cupped a hand over his mouth, the tears falling more freely now.  
“Pabbi?” asked Bría, before she pulled her pabbi into a hug. “Please don’t cry. I don’t want you to be sad.”  
“I-I’m not sad, Bría. I’m just…” Sportacus said, pausing a moment to take a breath. “…I’m happy. I’m amazed and thrilled you actually got to meet her.” He hugged her back.   
“She said she would visit Runar one day too. Maybe she’ll visit you too?” suggested Bría.  
Sportacus sniffed and wiped away his tears. “Hopefully, huh? Guess we’ll just wait and see.” He picked up his daughter, supporting her with his arm. “We can talk more about this later. Your papa’s going to get impatient if we keep him waiting with the pancakes.”

Bría gasped. “Pancakes!” she exclaimed.  
Sportacus laughed. “Yes, pancakes! I hear he’s putting bananas on them too.”  
Together they made their way to the kitchen, where Robbie was placing the pancakes on the plates. Sportacus set his daughter down, who ran to the kitchen, hugging her father’s legs.  
“Papa! I met grandma last night!” she exclaimed happily.  
Robbie ruffled her hair. “Did you now? Must’ve been a great dream.” He said with a chuckle. He looked up to his husband, seeing the serious expression on his face.  
His smile faded. “Or…not a dream?”  
“I think Bría’s going to tell us all about it at the table. Won’t you, Bría?” Sportacus suggested.  
Bría nodded excitedly. “Yeah! I have so much to tell you!” she said, before bounding to the kitchen table, her plate in her hands.  
Robbie looked at Sportacus in shock. “Sportacus…” he said quizzically.   
“Trust me, she’s not making this one up.” He said, a tear still in his eye.  
Robbie nodded. “I’ll just take this as more ‘magic stuff’.”  
Sportacus chuckled. “Probably for the best.”

The two men then joined their children at the breakfast table, where Bría spent the morning regaling her family with her adventures with grandma.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write something like this for a while, if only to finally write some stuff for Sportacus's mother. I hope you all liked her and this story! And no worries, I plan to write one where she reunites with Sportacus in the future too. You can bet there'll be all the sad fluff you could want for that one! ;)
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	4. Curlicue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an accident at home, Sportacus gets a surprising new look.

Robbie wiped his brow with his sleeve. He grabbed another shirt and laid it down on his ironing board. He frowned as a strand of hair flew into his face. He blew it off his face, only for it to flop back into his eyes. He groaned, taking a moment to smooth it away. Taking the iron, he pressed it down onto the sleeve of the shirt, steam flying up into the air.

Around him, the screams and giggles of his kids rang in his ears. Most days, the noises were charming and would lift his heart, reminding him of how he lived in a wonderful home with his beloved husband and two beloved children.

Other days, it just egged on another migraine. This day was the latter.

Admittedly, it didn’t help that that day there was so much housework to do. It was barely a little past noon, and Robbie and Sportacus had already done a load of laundry, vacuumed the house, and took the kids on a trip to the grocery store. Robbie reminisced nostalgically on the days where the only thing on his schedule was to eat cake and sleep. Those were good days. What happened to them?

A screech broke him out of his thoughts.

He smirked as he rolled his eyes. Of course, he traded one joy for another. While he may not have been the enthusiastic super parent that Sportacus was, he still loved his kids. He just sometimes grew a little weary of the constant screaming and laughing, the time spent making sure one of them didn’t fall into a pothole or eat something off the ground, or just the increasingly reduced time he could spend with Sportacus.

He wouldn’t trade this for the world of course, but he did miss the peace at times.

Especially at that moment, when he was carefully handling a hot iron, and could feel one of his little munchkins crawling between his legs to evade her pabbi.  
“Bría, could you _please_ not play around me right now? I’m using a hot iron and I don’t want you to get hurt!” Robbie explained as calmly as possible.  
Bría, however, didn’t seem to hear her papa. She only squealed with laughter and ran towards the living room, her little brother toddling closely after her.  
Robbie looked over exasperatedly, seeing Sportacus jog into the living room.  
“Sportacus, could you please wrangle our kids? Maybe get them to, I don’t know,” he said, cringing as he finished his sentence. “play outside?”  
Sportacus grinned. “Why Robbie, I never thought I’d see the day!” he said, dramatically clasping his cheeks.  
“Shove it, Sportaflop. I just need the kids to not knock over the ironing board.” Robbie said, giving his husband a look.  
Sportacus gave him a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them out of your hair.” He said, turning towards his children. “Alright you two! Let’s go play outside, your papa needs to get his work done.”  
The kids giggled and ran away from their pabbi, making a beeline right between Robbie’s legs.  
“Sportacus!” Robbie said worriedly, tilting the iron up.  
Sportacus dove underneath and grabbed his daughter right before she dipped under the ironing board again. With her in his arms, he smiled as he began to stand.  
“Don’t worry Robbie, I got her – “

At that moment, Sportacus stopped as a burst of steam hit him straight in the face. Robbie gasped in horror as Sportacus fell back, his hands rushing to his face. Bría tumbled out of his grip and ran over to her brother, the two looking on fearfully at their pabbi.  
“Sportacus! Are you okay??” Robbie asked worriedly as he ran to his husband’s side.  
“I-I’m okay, I just got taken by surprise.” Sportacus said, slowly removing his hands from his face.  
And as soon as Robbie caught a glimpse at his husband’s face, his eyes blew wide open. He couldn’t help himself from uttering a stream of giggles, covering his mouth to try and hide them.  
Sportacus looked at him in confusion. “What? What’s funny?” he asked.  
He turned to his children, who in turn nearly fell to the floor in laughter.  
“Hey, I don’t get it! What’s funny?” he asked again.  
Robbie swallowed a few more giggles as he pulled out a compact. “I think you may want to look, Sportacurl.”   
“Sportacurl?” asked Sportacus. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes widening and his mouth gaping open.

Almost certainly because of the hot steam, his mustache, usually pencil straight and pointed, now had their perfect straightness broken mid-way, the ends of his facial hair curled into perfect ringlets.   
Immediately, Sportacus’s cheeks took on a bright shade of red as he felt the embarrassment swallow him up.   
“Oh.” Was all he could say, as he daintily touched the end of his signature mustache. It coiled and bounced as he pulled away his finger.  
“Pabbi’s got curls like me!” Bría noted with a gap-toothed smile.  
Runar only continued to giggle and laugh.  
Robbie gave his husband a smile. “Oh, come on, Sportablush. You have to admit that it’s a little funny.”  
Sportacus looked at his husband worriedly. “I mean yes, but will it go back to normal?”   
Robbie furrowed his brow. “Of course, it will, don’t be silly. Haven’t you ever curled hair before? It always goes back to normal.”  
Robbie bit his lip as he saw Sportacus continue to mess with his newly curled mustache, pulling gently at its ends to coax it back straight. Each attempt only resulted in the hairs pulling back into their tight curls. He’d never seen his husband get so pre-occupied with his appearance. He didn’t get it; he liked the curls.  
He sighed and looked over at his kids, who were still giggling at their pabbi’s new look.   
“Hey, why don’t you two go play in the backyard? I’m sure Pabbi will join you guys soon. Plus, I think I saw a Blue Morpho out there the other day. Why don’t you guys try and catch it?”  
“But Blue Morpho’s don’t migrate out here. They live in Central America.” Stated Bría.  
“It was a directionally challenged one.” Retorted Robbie. Seeing his kids refuse to leave, he ushered them away. “Go, shoo. Just don’t eat anything toxic.”  
The kids shrugged and skipped out the back door, slamming it behind them.

As soon as the kids were out of sight, Robbie turned and pressed his lips against Sportacus, the sudden shift in force sending the hero down to the ground.  
At first, Sportacus froze at the sudden affection, but quickly melted as he threaded his fingers through Robbie’s hair, his other hand cupping his lower back. He closed his eyes in bliss as he felt Robbie’s hands move from cupping his face to stroking his ears, eliciting a contented sigh as they kissed again and again.  
Robbie then pulled away, much too soon for Sportacus’s liking, and he gave the elf a look. “There, now are you not distracted by your new curls?”  
Sportacus, still out of it from the sudden kiss, only nodded in response.  
Robbie laughed and shook his head. “Out of all the people in this town, I never thought you’d be the type to get self-conscious.” He said.  
Sportacus, finally transitioning out of the contented bliss, felt his cheeks burn as he gave a half-smile. “Sorry, I guess I was just a little shocked. I was worried it looked stupid.” He admitted.  
Robbie gave a warm smile. “Well, I think you look pretty good with it, if that changes anything.” He said, nuzzling the crook between Sportacus’s neck and shoulder.  
Sportacus smiled, leaning in and kissing the outer shell of Robbie’s ear, gently running his hand up and down Robbie’s back.  
“As long as you like it, then that’s all that matters.” Sportacus whispered in his ear.  
Robbie looked down at his husband, his face a bright red. “You’re so sappy, Sportadummy.”  
Sportacus grinned. “You like it though.”  
Robbie rolled his eyes and sighed. “I do.” He relented.  
“I love you so much.” Sportacus said, sitting up and closing the distance with a kiss.  
“Love you too, Sportacus.” Robbie replied, his response partly muffled by the kiss.   
The two kissed over and over again, Robbie wrapping his arms around Sportacus’s shoulders as Sportacus cupped the back of his neck, his other hand supporting his lower back. Sportacus’s hand ran through Robbie’s hair once more as the other hand drifted further down, cupping Robbie’s bottom. As he did, Sportacus deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping between Robbie’s lips.

At first, Robbie let himself slip into the moment, sighing blissfully as he felt the kiss deepen and Sportacus’s hand trail down. But then he remembered the kids.  
“Um, Sportacus?” Robbie said, his voice muffled.  
Sportacus pulled away, looking at him worriedly. “Is this okay?”  
“Oh, this is more than okay.” Robbie answered, before gesturing towards the door. “It’s just that we have two kids running around unsupervised in the backyard. And I promised that you’d join them.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Oh! Right! I’d better go look after them then.” He said. He prepared to jump to his feet, before he looked at Robbie. “Can we, um, put a raincheck on this then?”  
Robbie gave a half-smile. “Like I’d say no to that.” He answered. He gave him one last kiss before shuffling off his lap. “Go on, make sure the kids haven’t decided to try and befriend a brown bear again.”  
Sportacus leapt to his feet, placing a kiss on Robbie’s forehead before he bolted out the door.

Robbie sighed before standing back up. He walked back to his ironing board, grabbing the clothing iron as he pressed it back down against the shirt. Silently, he gave the clothes iron his thanks. Unconventional as it might’ve been, the weird incident with the steam had given him exactly what he wanted, and he hummed contently as he continued to iron his laundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the closest I'll ever get to writing Sportacus and Robbie making out XD
> 
> Fun fact, this fic was inspired by something that happened to my cat. He also got too close to our clothing iron and ended up with curled whiskers for a month. I always thought it'd be funny if that happened to Sportacus so here we go. Hope you all enjoyed this short entry!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Queen Anne's Lace Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rottenella knows her dad is attracted to her teacher, and she wants them to finally confess their feelings and stop dancing around the fact.

Perhaps to them, what was happening between the two was subtle and barely detectable.

But to Rottenella, it was about as subtle as getting a brick to the head. And she was so sick of how they danced around the subject.

She knew it, and she could prove it. She knew her father was head over heels for her teacher Mrs. Brown. And she had a pretty solid idea that her teacher returned his feelings, though was much subtler about it.

She could see it each time the two would talk. At first, Rottenella barely noticed just how long the two would talk (or more accurately, how long they would maintain the long pauses as they would just…stand with each other. Not really talking, but just being together). But it soon became very apparent to her that those two both felt something that was beyond friends, with her first hint coming from, of course, her father.  
She’d always raise an eyebrow as her father’s gaze would linger longer than normal as Mrs. Brown would talk about her day, or her students, or Rottenella’s education. There was a strange look in his eyes, one that Rottenella could only describe as a sort of pleasant haze. An admiration, or adoration of sorts. One so obvious that she would nearly bash her head against the fence at how Mrs. Brown never seemed to notice.  
Mrs. Brown was more subdued with her hints, though eventually Rottenella noticed those too. It came more in small, physical gestures. How her posture seemed to relax ever so slightly as she conversed with Robbie. Or how, when Robbie would deliver his signature, maybe too enthusiastic hugs, she’s sink into his hugs a little more than the average person. Or, even more likely, from how she’d always peek back as she’d walk back to the classroom.  
And of course, both had begun to call each other by their first names, which was a decent enough hint.

Rottenella knew that they both were crushing hard on each other, but neither seemed to bring it up. They continued like this for months, before Rottenella finally had enough. She’d get those two to at least discuss their feelings, if it was the last thing she did.

\--

“Dad? What do you think of Mrs. Brown?” she signed one morning.  
Robbie stopped flipping the pancakes he was cooking. He froze, a twinkle in his eyes appearing as his lips wiggled into a silly half-smile.  
“Well, um, I think she’s very nice! She’s very nice and very smart. You’re lucky to have her for your teacher.” He said with a nod.  
Rottenella frowned, giving her father a look. “That’s all?”  
Robbie gave an uneasy chuckle and turned back to the pancakes. “Y-Yes, that’s all. And, well, I’m lucky to be able to have her as a friend!” he added.   
Rottenella bit her lip and thought a while. A mischievous smile crossed her face as she asked, “Why are you lucky to be friends with her?”  
Robbie sighed and gestured with the spatula. “Like I said! She’s smart and very nice!” he responded, shaking his head and returning to the pancakes. His shoulders loosened as he continued to flip the flapjacks. “…and funny. And she has the most wonderful smile. And when she laughs, it’s like everything is under Christmas lights. And she has such a way with words…” he continued with a dreamy tone.

“Dad, the pancakes!” Rottenella signed warningly.  
Robbie blinked and looked down at the stove. His eyes grew wide as he spotted one pancake catching on fire, having landed on the burner rather than the pan. He frantically fished it away from the burner, cringing as he felt the fire lick at his hands. He tossed the burning pancake into the sink, hurriedly turning the water on, dousing the burning breakfast and extinguishing the flames. He breathed a sigh of relief, brushing the imaginary sweat off his brow as he turned back to his daughter, a lopsided and shaky smile on his face.  
“Good on you to catch that!” he said.  
Rottenella gave a silent laugh and shook her head. “Dad, you have it bad!”  
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”  
Rottenella threw her arms up in exasperation. “You like Mrs. Brown as more than a friend! Admit it!”  
Robbie could feel heat rising in his cheeks, even though he couldn’t blush. He tugged at his collar nervously. “I mean…uh…” he stammered. However, as soon as his eyes met the scrutinizing gaze of his daughter’s, he sighed and nodded. “Yes, I do. I like her a lot.”  
Rottenella grinned and clapped her hands. “I knew it!”  
“Was it noticeable?” asked Robbie.  
Rottenella just nodded in response.  
“So, what should I do?”  
“Ask her on a date! Bring her to a movie and dinner! Or just dinner.” Rottenella suggested.

Robbie’s eyes glittered as he considered the suggestions. However, his face fell and he looked down sheepishly.  
Rottenella cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong?”  
“Ella, is that really a good idea? I mean…” he said, sighing. “I don’t know anything about…romance. Wouldn’t she want to be with someone less…less like me? She’s just so wonderful, she deserves the best! I don’t know if I could give her that.” He said sadly.  
Rottenella got up from her chair and strode across the kitchen, pulling her father into a hug. Pulling away, she looked her dad in the eyes.  
“Dad, you’re underestimating yourself. You’re fantastic, and sweet, and caring! You two would be perfect for each other. And the romance thing comes naturally, I bet. You just need to try!” she signed supportively.  
Taking in a deep breath, Robbie exhaled and nodded. “You’re right. Thanks Ella, I’ll ask her out on a date!” he said confidently. He faltered. “Well, maybe could you see if she likes me like that? I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.”  
Rottenella winked. “Leave it to me.”

\--

“Rottenella? It’s time for recess, don’t you want to go out and play with your friends?”

Rottenella looked up from her drawing and shook her head. “No thanks, Mrs. Brown. If it’s okay, I’d like to just stay and finish my drawing today.” She signed.  
Mrs. Brown thought for a moment, before nodding. “Well, alright, that would be fine. It would be nice to have some company during lunch for a change.” She commented. The ding of the microwave sent Mrs. Brown hurrying towards the machine, pulling out her steaming hot Tupperware full of some sort of pasta dish.  
She sat down at her desk and speared some of her noodles onto her fork. She gave a warm smile as she watched Rottenella draw. “That must be an important drawing if you want to stay inside instead of playing. Is it for someone, or just a personal project?”  
“It’s for my dad!” Rottenella responded.  
Mrs. Brown chuckled. “That’s very sweet of you. I’m sure he’ll adore it once it’s finished.”  
Rottenella nodded and continued to draw, adding in some more purples and reds. She glanced up once, seeing her teacher take another bite of noodles.  
“My dad is really cool, isn’t he Mrs. Brown?” Rottenella signed.  
Mrs. Brown paused, before smiling and nodding. “Your father is a wonderful man, Rottenella. He’s quite a gentleman. That’s a rare quality in this day and age.”  
“And he’s good looking! He’s a handsome dad, wouldn’t you agree?” Rottenella signed, a cheeky smile crossing her face.

Mrs. Brown’s cheeks turned a bright pink. She cleared her throat and refocused her attention on her lunch. “Well, yes. Your father takes very good care of himself. He’s quite a clean individual.”  
“So you agree?” Rottenella asked.  
The pink on Mrs. Brown’s cheeks darkened. “It would be difficult to object, if there’s evidence for one idea. Your father…it’s quite clear that he’s good looking. So, to oppose would make little sense.” She shook her head. “O-Of course, attractiveness shouldn’t just be defined by physical looks, Ella. That’s not the most important part.”  
“Then what is?”  
Mrs. Brown looked away thoughtfully. “Well, personality for one. An attractive person is usually very compassionate. They have a love for life, and know to listen when necessary. A good sense of humor is usually key as well, and a good spoonful of humility never hurts. And of course, a genuine chivalrous-ness is quite attractive as well.”  
“So, my dad?”  
Mrs. Brown frowned, the red on her cheek nearly rivaling a tomato’s. “Ella, you’re pushing the topic of your father rather hard in this conversation. Do you have some sort of agenda?”  
Rottenella shrugged innocently. “I’m only pointing out what I hear. And you pretty much described my dad. Couldn’t be a coincidence.”  
Mrs. Brown sighed and laid her head against her desk, her honey blonde hair falling forward and draping across the smooth wood. “I-It’s not polite to make people uncomfortable Rottenella.” She said wearily.  
Rottenella walked up to her teacher’s desk and gently placed her hands on its surface. “Do you like him, Mrs. Brown?”  
Her teacher sighed again and lifted her head up, pressing her glasses back up her face. “Yes, I do. I do quite admire and…am attracted to him.”  
Rottenella gasped and grinned, a sparkle appearing in her eye. “I knew it!” she signed excitedly.  
Mrs. Brown laughed softly and brushed her hair back. “I guess I should’ve known you would find out sooner or later.”  
“So are you going to tell him?” asked Rottenella.  
Mrs. Brown shook her head, standing up to put away her Tupperware. “I don’t think so, Ella.”

Rottenella’s smile vanished in an instant. “Why not?”  
Mrs. Brown sighed, carefully washing out the last pieces of food from the plastic. “Because I don’t feel ready for that sort of commitment in my life. My main passion, and focus, is teaching children like yourself. I’ve tried before to balance the two and…well, that’s not the sort of conversation you’d want to hear.” She stopped, letting the water continue to run as she held the edge of the sink, uncomfortable memories sliding into her head. She calmed herself, breathing in and out. “I also don’t know if he feels the same way. I would rather have our friendship than risk telling him and losing what we have. I love our talks after class and if I tell him my feelings and he doesn’t reciprocate…” she closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want to take that chance.”  
“But he DOES like you like that!” Rottenella signed more firmly.  
Mrs. Brown’s eyes widened. Her blush returned. “He does? Did…did he tell you?”  
“My dad’s head over heels for you, Mrs. Brown! He thinks you’re the most wonderful person in the world!” Rottenella added.  
Mrs. Brown couldn’t stop a smile from slipping onto her face. “He truly thinks all that?”  
Rottenella nodded.  
Mrs. Brown’s smile faded and she shook her head. “That’s quite sweet of him, but I just don’t know if now’s a good time.” She looked up at the clock. “Ella, you should eat your lunch. Class will start soon and no good learning can be accomplished on an empty stomach.”

Rottenella could feel her energy fade. So close, yet so far. She frowned and gave a resigned nod, heading over to her cubby to grab her lunch box.

\--

The bell rang as the school day ended. Dozens of children happily stormed the play area, their giggles and screams filling the air as they dove towards the play equipment, throwing aside their lunch pails and backpacks. All except for Rottenella, who trotted along much more glumly. She didn’t want to tell her father what Mrs. Brown had told her. True, he’d probably understand, but it still wasn’t the answer he’d want to hear. She clambered up the stairs towards the slide, stopping as she saw her father stride towards the school.

Her mouth gaped open. Her father must’ve stopped by home on his way to pick her up, because he was dressed smartly in a crisp, yellow button-up, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with gray slacks. He still wore his work sneakers, but overall, he was much more dressed up than usual. Clutched in his hand was a colorful bouquet, composed of a multitude of different bright, sweet smelling flowers. He paused as he spotted Mrs. Brown, a half-smile appearing on his face. Brushing off his dress shirt, he continued his way towards the teacher.  
Rottenella stepped off to the side, watching anxiously as his father approached her teacher.  
Mrs. Brown turned as she noticed Robbie approaching. As she faced him, her eyes grew wide as she spotted the flowers.  
“These are for you!” Robbie said proudly.  
“Oh! Really? Well, thank you Robbie. These are lovely.” She said with a smile, sniffing the vibrant blossoms. As she admired them, she looked at the man with curiosity. “Where did you buy these? They’re quite beautiful.”  
“I didn’t! They’re from my own garden.” Robbie beamed.  
“Well, then you must have quite a green thumb. These are wonderful.” She said warmly.  
Robbie felt a warmth in his heart. “Thank you, Mrs. Brown!”  
She smiled. “You can call me Beatrix, if you’d like. I’m certain the children can’t hear us right now.”  
Robbie felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Oh, right! Well, thank you Beatrix!”

A pause fell between them. Robbie shuffled his feet a little, biting his lip as he prepared his question.

“Beatrix, I wanted to ask you something.” He finally said.  
“Oh?”  
Robbie cleared his throat nervously. “There’s a great café in town that just opened up. I thought, maybe, perhaps, you’d uh, want to…go together? Tomorrow?”  
Mrs. Brown’s cheeks grew pink. “Oh, I don’t…I mean…” she stuttered. Her mind drifted elsewhere for a moment. She thought about the same memories from earlier. Was she truly ready for this? Part of her thought not. Still, she looked at the man, seeing the hope in his eyes. It made her heart melt, and the warm feelings bubble in her heart. She couldn’t refuse. She nodded. “Sure. I mean, yes! I mean, tomorrow sounds great.”  
Robbie gave a silly, lop-sided smile. “O-Okay! Would you like me to pick you up? I mean, I don’t have a car...”  
Mrs. Brown shook her head. “No need. I’ll meet you there. Say, about seven o’clock?”  
Robbie nodded. “Sounds perfect!”  
Mrs. Brown gave a nervous smile. “Alright then, I’ll see you there Robbie.”  
Robbie gave her one of his signature hugs. “See you then! Have a good day, Beatrix!” he said cheerily.  
Mrs. Brown blushed even harder and hugged him back. “Y-You too.” She responded.

Robbie walked away with a spring in his step as he collected Rottenella from the gaggle of children.  
“Did you just…?” she asked.  
Robbie nodded. “I decided to take ini-ini-initiative!” he said, making sure he said the last word correctly.  
“And did it?”  
He grinned.  
Rottenella happily hugged her father. “I’m so proud of you!” she signed.  
Robbie hugged her back. “Thanks, Ella!”  
She gave her father a look. “I thought you were going to wait for me to ask?”  
Robbie looked at her sheepishly. “I uh, couldn’t wait. I kept thinking about your date idea, and going on it with Mrs. Brown, and it just made me feel all…nice? I just had to try.”  
She smiled and gave him another hug. “Well, I’m just glad it worked out.”  
The two walked home triumphantly, with both conversing about what they’d have to do to prepare, including what Robbie would wear and if the date was just dinner or if it’d include something like a movie or a stroll in the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of a two part story! Maybe should've posted this as it's own separate thing, but it's not going to be too long so I thought I'd just put this in the Picture Book collection. Hope you guys enjoy this, and Clockwork Robbie finally getting a date!
> 
> Also Rottenella, you are so sneaky.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Plenty of Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bria is a feeling curious today.

“Hey Pabbi, why is the sky blue?”

Sportacus snuck the needle through another loop. “Well, if I remember right, it has something to do with water particles in the atmosphere. I think they reflect blue light more than red.”

Sportacus’s nose twitched as a curtain of black, curly hair slid over his eyes, tickling his nose. He soon came eye to eye with his rambunctious daughter.

“Why does the sun set?” she asked.

Sportacus gently brushed some of her wild hair from his face. “The rotation of the Earth. The sun sets because we rotate away from it.”

Bría nodded and hopped off the couch. She crawled over to his feet, propping herself up on the couch cushion. Her little feet kicked against the side of the couch as she bobbed her head side to side. She then turned to her father again, her eyes looking at him curiously.  
  
“Pabbi, why do you knit? And why don’t I have hair like yours?”

Sportacus laid down the scarf he was working on, giving his full attention to his daughter. “Well, you see there’s certain hair colors that are more common than others. They’re caused by ‘dominant’ genes. Papa’s hair color is from a dominant gene while my hair color is from recessive genes. So, it was just more likely that you’d get his hair color.” He gestured towards his scarf. “As for the knitting, it gives me something to do when I’m just relaxing like this.” He smirked. “You know your pabbi, he just can’t sit still for very long.”

“Like me!” piped up Bría, as she slipped the scarf onto her head, wearing it like a loose shawl.

Sportacus chuckled. “ _Especially_ like you.” He knit another loop before he paused again. “You seem very inquisitive today. Why’s that?”

Bría shrugged. “Just am.”

Sportacus smiled. “Alright then.” He responded. He continued with his knitting, occasionally looking up at his daughter. She still sat there, dangling her legs off the edge of the couch, humming a little tune to herself.

She broke the silence once more. “Pabbi?”

Sportacus gave a sigh and looked at his daughter with a patient smile. “Yes, Bría?”

“What’s it like to be the smartest pabbi in the world?”

Sportacus couldn’t help himself from smiling widely at the comment. He laughed. “I don’t know, I’ve never met him.” He answered.

Bría frowned and put her hands on her hips. She clambered onto her father’s chest, pressing her hands against his cheeks. “You are the smartest pabbi! Don’t act so…so…”

“Modest?” Sportacus suggested, his voice slightly muffled by his squished cheeks.

Bría nodded in affirmation. “Yeah! You’re the smartest pabbi and there’s nothing you can do about it. So, don’t lie!”

Sportacus laughed. “Alright then, I promise I won’t.”

Bría smiled proudly, obviously pleased with having set that straight. She slid off her father’s chest, landing feet first on the floor. She turned, about to run off, before she turned back to her father and gave him a big hug.

“I love you, Pabbi.” She said happily.

Sportacus hugged her back. “I love you too, Bría.” He responded warmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I am working on my other fanfictions, I just wanted to write this. Just something short and cute with Sportacus and Bria.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!


	7. Queen Anne's Lace Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie and Mrs. Brown go on their date.

“You really think I should wear this?”   
Rottenella nodded, smoothing out the creases in her father’s velvet jacket. She smiled as she gave the sides one last experimental tug, before stepping back, her eyes twinkling as she looked over her father.  
“You look great!” she complimented.  
Robbie adjusted the lapels of his jacket. He brushed his hair back one more time, before giving himself an approving nod. Pausing, he blew out a sharp breath. He looked at his daughter with a weak smile.  
“I’m feeling a little nervous.” He admitted.  
Rottenella gave her father a side hug. “You’re going to do great, I can feel it.”  
He hugged her back and ruffled her hair. “Thanks, Ella. I hope you’re right!”   
“Oh, but don’t forget! There’s one thing you have to do when the date’s over!” she noted.  
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”  
Rottenella made a kissing face.  
Robbie blushed. “I-I do? But I’ve never done that before!”  
“I think it’s pretty easy. The hard part is where the noses go.” Rottenella said.  
Robbie laughed. “Well, we’ll see! Maybe if this goes well enough, we can do that!” He glanced at the window, seeing the sun begin to dip towards the horizon. “Only another hour now, and then I’ll finally have my date with Mrs. Brown. I hope she’s as excited as we both are!”

\--

Mrs. Brown adjusted her necklace for the third time in a row. She sighed, exhaling some of her built up stress as she gazed at herself in the mirror. Her pale blue sweater seemed like a good choice, and it flattered her body well, alongside her well-tailored jeans.   
She glanced down at her necklace again. Perhaps there was one that would fit better? She dug around her jewelry box, sifting through various tangled chains and discarded pendants. Her fingers brushed up against a ring. She looked at it. Her heart hurt as she picked up the small band and turned it around in her palm. Slowly, she put it back and shut the box, shaking her head as she did so. She pressed her glasses back up her nose and ruffled her hair, hoping to give it a sort of effortless, beachy look. She frowned. Perhaps she should’ve gone with an up-do.  
Glancing over at the clock, she realized she wouldn’t have the time. She had to meet up with Robbie in twenty minutes. Her eyes drifted down to a cardboard box that sat on the counter, its contents nearly overflowing out of its container. She felt a sharp pain flicker in her heart, and her eyes immediately darted away.  
“This will be good for me. For both of us. I’m going to have a good time tonight.” She reassured herself.   
 Her eyes lowered at her reflection. She gave her hair one more ruffle, before she grabbed her purse and walked out the door.

\--

Robbie sat at the little table right in the corner of the outdoor patio, his feet tapping against the ground excitedly. He gazed at the table, examining its contents. He adjusted the napkins again, and gave an approving nod after fixing the leaves on the single rose in the vase. At the sound of shoes clacking against the pavement, he looked up, his excited smile vanishing in favor of his mouth dropping open, his eyes twinkling in awe.  
He stood up from his seat and strode around the small table. He eagerly pulled Mrs. Brown into a hug.  
“You look absolutely beautiful!” he said warmly.  
Mrs. Brown slowly returned the hug. “T-Thank you, Robbie! You look quite dapper yourself.” She said.  
He beamed. “Thank you! Rottenella helped me pick an outfit! She has very good taste.”  
“I can see that. She has quite the eye for color.” Mrs. Brown noted. Being led by Robbie, Mrs. Brown sat down in her seat, hanging her purse off the chair’s back. “You have a remarkable daughter, Robbie. She’s exceptionally bright and has quite a sense of wit. You must be so proud of her.”  
Robbie sat down in his seat and nodded. “I am! Rottenella is the best daughter I could’ve ever asked for. Though, she can be pretty…pretty…” He paused, biting his lip as he tapped his forehead. “sn…cra…”  
“Crafty?” Mrs. Brown suggested.  
Robbie grinned and snapped his fingers. “Yes! Thank you!” he said happily. A sheepish look replaced his smile. “I’m sorry, sometimes I forget words. I’m getting better, but I still mess up at times. I wish I were better with them.”

Mrs. Brown smiled. “Well, I think you’re making wonderful progress Robbie. Remember when we first met? You were speaking in third person, and now you rarely do! You’ve been working so hard, never forget that.” She said.  
Robbie’s eyes widened. “You don’t think it’s a problem?”  
“Of course not, Robbie! What would make you think such a thing?”   
Robbie blushed in embarrassment. “Guess just me feeling nervous.”  
Mrs. Brown gave a warm smile. “No need to be nervous, Robbie. If it helps, think of this less as a date and more of a fun outing. We’re just here to have a good time with each other. Does that help?”  
Robbie breathed in and sighed. He nodded. “Yes, it does. Thank you, Beatrix.”

After some time, their waiter came by and took their orders. Beatrix ordered the soup and salad while Robbie ordered dessert for the table next to them. The two chatted about their lives, though the conversation mostly circulated around Robbie’s life, his job, and Rottenella. Robbie at first didn’t think much of it, but as the night continued and Beatrix was picking away the tomatoes from her salad, Robbie finally spoke up.  
“Beatrix?” he asked.  
Mrs. Brown wiped away some dressing from her lips. “Yes, Robbie?”  
“You know, we talk a lot about my life and Rottenella. I think you know pretty much everything about what I do, but I don’t know much about your interests. I mean, I think I know what you like, but you don’t talk much about it!” Robbie remarked. He slid forward, propping up his chin on his knuckles. “I want to hear about what you love!”  
Mrs. Brown froze. She slowly lowered her napkin and gave a weak smile. “Oh, Robbie, that’s very sweet of you, but…my life isn’t that interesting. There’s not much to say about it. I’d much rather hear more about Rottenella’s art projects and how Sugar Pie is doing.”  
Robbie’s smile faded. “I mean, I like talking about both of them a lot! But…” he said, his smile being completely replaced with a frown. “it seems like every time I try to ask you about your life, you don’t want to talk about it.”  
“It really is okay, Robbie. The things I like aren’t nearly as interesting as what happens in your life. I mean, you’re a robot! And so is your daughter! That is infinitely more interesting than what happens in my little life. So, I’d much rather hear about that!” Mrs. Brown said with a slightly forced smile.  
Robbie continued to frown, but decided to drop the issue for the moment. He reluctantly began to talk once more about Sugar Pie, though he gave a concerned look to his date.

The waiter soon delivered their check, and Robbie had yet to coax Mrs. Brown into speaking about her own life, at least beyond her time at school. He watched and listened carefully, hoping at some point that an opening would present itself, something so he could conveniently press her for her interests or her life. Yet, so far, nothing. He just continued to ramble about his own life, with Mrs. Brown eagerly listening.  
At some point, Mrs. Brown got up from her seat, saying that she needed to reapply her lipstick. As she got up, she grabbed her purse, and a book tumbled from her bag. It hit the ground with a firm thud, its hard spine hitting the pavement first.  
“I’ll get it!” Robbie offered helpfully, leaning down to grab the book before Mrs. Brown could say anything more. He glanced at the cover, reading its title carefully. “ _The Myths and Monsters of Greece_?”   
Mrs. Brown’s cheeks took on a pink coloration. “I-It’s just some reading on the side. Nothing that – “  
“Are there dragons in this book?” asked Robbie.  
Mrs. Brown smiled affectionately. “Well, not quite. There are creatures called hydras in Greek mythology, which are close to dragons but not exactly. They have multiple heads that, if you cut one off, another will grow back in its place – “she began to say, before stopping herself. Her smile disappeared. “I-I mean, I know it’s not that interesting or fascinating, so I should just stop…”  
“No, please, go on! How big were hydras? Were they evil? What other creatures were there in Greece?” Robbie asked in rapid succession, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.  
Mrs. Brown cleared her throat and responded, albeit with a little hesitation. “Well, in actuality, there was only one hydra, and it lived in Lerna lake. It was the offspring of Typhon and Echidna, and had the ability to regenerate its heads if they were cut off…”

And so, Robbie had finally succeeded in getting Mrs. Brown to open up. She rambled and rattled on about mythology, telling Robbie about the various creatures of Greek myth. She told him about Pegasus, the nymphs, sirens, centaurs, and minotaurs. All with a zest and verve that only drew Robbie further into his haze of adoration. As she continued to talk about her passion, he couldn’t help but notice the way that lovely twinkle returned to her eyes, and how her face seemed to take on more color. It was like she was coming alive before him, opening up and revealing the truly passionate and vibrant side that Robbie always knew she had, but had so rarely seen before.  
“Do you know what’s really funny about the Cerberus though? Its name is thought to be derived from the Proto-Indo-European word _Kerberos_ , which in their language means ‘spotted’! It’s like Hades named his fearsome guard dog Spot! I always loved that fact about it the best.” Mrs. Brown continued excitedly.  
Robbie laughed. “That is really funny! I guess gods of the Underworld also can be real softies too!”  
“Oh, most definitely! Hades is very misunderstood, you know. So many people characterize him as this monster, almost Devil like figure, but really, he’s more – “she said, before stopping. She looked about their surroundings, blinking. “H…How long have I been rambling?”  
Robbie shrugged. “Not too long.” He fibbed. He figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to mention that she’d been talking about mythology non-stop for over an hour. Not that he minded her talking about it so much.  
Mrs. Brown, meanwhile, went pale. She averted her gaze. “I-I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have taken so much of your time like that. I understand…it’s not that interesting. I’m sorry I put you through all that…”  
Robbie’s eyes widened in shock. He stopped and gently placed his hands on her arms. “Beatrix, it’s okay! I loved hearing you talk about mythology! You clearly love the topic, and I love seeing you so alive and energized about something!”  
Mrs. Brown shook her head. “No…no I’m sorry. I know, it’s so stupid that I’m so _obsessed_ with something so useless. I’m sorry, I…I…” she said. Right before Robbie’s eyes, he could see her crumple into herself, repeating apologies and keeping her gaze away from the man. His heart broke, and he was left confused and strangely upset. This wasn’t like Mrs. Brown. Where did this come from?

Robbie looked on worriedly as tears rolled down Mrs. Brown’s face. He bit his lip, considering just what to do or say in that moment. Slowly and carefully, he placed a hand underneath Mrs. Brown’s chin and tilted her gaze back up to him, her teary eyes meeting his. He then pulled her into a tight hug, which she shakily returned.  
“Beatrix, I don’t think it’s stupid that you love mythology so much. And I definitely don’t think you’re o-obsessed or that it’s a useless thing to love. If it’s something that you love, it’s not stupid.” He assured her.   
Mrs. Brown shuddered and tried to hold back her tears. Her fingers curled around some of Robbie’s jacket fabric. “B-But it is…he said…”  
Robbie pulled back, looking Mrs. Brown in the eyes. “Who’s he?”  
Mrs. Brown shook her head and wiped away her tears. “My ex-husband.”  
Robbie paused. He looked at her in disbelief. “He…Did he say those things to you?”  
Mrs. Brown nodded. “He said those things a lot.” She sighed before she continued, turning her head so her voice wasn’t muffled. “It wasn’t always like that, or at least I didn’t think it was. When we were first married, I thought he was the kindest, most sweet and loving soul. He wanted to do so much together and I didn’t mind. But…” her body stiffened. “…soon after I got my teaching job, he seemed to grow more…cold. He would act angry and offended each time I left for work. He wanted me to quit, even though I told him it was my passion. I refused to quit, and he only seemed to get worse.” More tears rolled down her face as she looked up at Robbie. “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t a good – “  
“Beatrix, as long as you’re comfortable with talking about it, I want to listen.” Robbie said patiently. He brushed some hair away from her face.  
Mrs. Brown sniffled and gave a weak smile. “He started insulting me for my interests. He’d say they were stupid or useless, or worse, he called me obsessed. It kept going so long t-that I actually began to believe him.” She seemed to be ready to say something else, her hands running cautiously up and down her arms, but instead she shook her head. She fought back her tears as she said, “I thought everything would be better once he was finally out of my life, but I’m still…still…”

Robbie tilted her gaze back towards him. “Beatrix, it’s okay. You don’t need to stop yourself from crying. It’s okay, I’m here.”  
Mrs. Brown nodded before letting her tears run free, staining her face with her mascara. Robbie pulled her back for another hug, gently running his hand up and down the back of her head. It broke his heart to see her so distressed, and with him so unsure of what to say or do. He continued to just hold her, listening to her sobs.  
Finally, after several minutes, Mrs. Brown spoke again. “I’m so sorry, I thought I was ready for this, but it brought back so many memories and…feelings...”  
Robbie shook his head. “No no, Beatrix! It’s okay! I get it. I don’t fully understand what happened or how you feel, but I do know one thing.” He smiled at her warmly. “If you’re not ready to date again, then we don’t have to do this yet.”  
“I want to though.” Mrs. Brown responded. She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I really do like you, Robbie. And I do want to be with you. But – “  
“You still need time to heal?”  
Mrs. Brown nodded. “It’s been several months, but it still hurts thinking about what happened between him and I. I should be ready by now.”  
“Rottenella told me that people all heal differently. So, you just need more time. That’s okay.” Robbie said. He smiled as he brushed away her dampened hair. “Even if we’re not dating, I want to help in any way I can. I’ll help you through this, if you want me to.”  
“Robbie, it’s okay. This is quite a bit to deal with. I don’t want you to go through it if you don’t need to.” Mrs. Brown said.  
Robbie shook his head. “But I want to! Doesn’t matter if I don’t _need_ to, I want to! I want to help you smile again, and feel okay with being so excited about the things you love! I want to help you because I lo – “he was about to say, before he stopped himself. He cupped a hand over his mouth while his face turned a beet red. He looked at her in embarrassment. “Sorry! That was supposed to stay in my head!” he said sheepishly.  
Mrs. Brown blushed. As she looked at the increasingly reddened Robbie, she broke into tearful laughter as she buried her face into his jacket.  
Robbie looked confused. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say it! I mean I meant it, I MEAN I, uh, know I’m not supposed to say it yet but it just slipped – “  
“It’s okay, Robbie. I love you too.” Mrs. Brown said warmly.

Robbie flushed a brighter red. A crooked, silly smile crossed his face. “Y-You do?”  
Mrs. Brown pulled away, a smile appearing so warm it could melt the winter’s snow on her face. “I may not be ready to date like that again yet. But I still love you.” She held one of his hands. “Because you’re kind, patient, honest, and willing to be with me.”  
Robbie smiled widely. He closed his fingers around Mrs. Brown’s hand. “W-Well, I love you too then!” he said cheerily. “I love you because you’re bright, funny, and wonderful!”  
Mrs. Brown hugged the robotic man. “Thank you, Robbie.”  
Robbie hugged her back. “I’m glad to be…wait, we’re friends, but not quite?”  
“Let’s just call it ‘dating in progress’.” Mrs. Brown suggested with a grin.  
Robbie felt himself grow excited. “O-Okay! I’m glad to be ‘dating in progress’ with you!”  
“As am I.” Mrs. Brown responded.

The two stayed there for some time, just standing in each other’s embrace.

As the night grew later, however, they both knew they’d have to depart. The two walked underneath a light post, at an intersection where they were close enough to both their homes.  
“I hope you had a good night?” Robbie asked nervously.  
“I did. I had a fantastic night. I hope you did too, Robbie.” Mrs. Brown said with a smile.  
“I did! One of the best, really.” He said with verve.  
The two stood there for a moment.  
Robbie looked awkwardly towards his home. “Well, I guess if the date’s done, I should head on home…”  
“Was there something else you wanted to say? You seem a little hesitant.” Mrs. Brown noted with a quirked eyebrow.  
Robbie cupped the back of his neck. “Well, Rottenella really drove the idea that a date ends with a…a…you know.” He said, gesturing towards her lips.  
Mrs. Brown’s eyes widened. “Oh! Well, that’s not always true. It can though.”  
“I mean, I know that tonight was a lot for you. I understand if you’re not wanting to. We are still dating in progress, after al – “  
He was interrupted as Mrs. Brown laid the softest, most gentle of kisses upon his lips. He was pretty sure he felt something short circuit in his head at the contact.  
“Thank you for a wonderful night, Robbie.” She said with a smile, before she turned and walked back towards her home, giving him one last wave.  
Robbie stood there frozen. Slowly, his fingers rose up and touched his lips, and a wide smile crossed his face. He continued to watch until Mrs. Brown disappeared around the corner before he made his way home, a skip present in his step the whole time.

He closed the front door behind him as he returned home. He laid back against the door and sighed dreamily. As his eyes looked about the darkened home, they widened as he spotted Rottenella and Sugar Pie sitting on the couch.  
“Why are you both still up?” he asked.  
“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to see how the date went!” Rottenella signed. She looked at him expectantly. “So, are you…?”  
“Not quite. She’s not ready to be full-time dating, but we’re dating in progress!”  
Rottenella looked confused, but she nodded nonetheless. “That’s good, right?”  
Robbie grinned and touched his lips once more. “Well, she gave me a kiss, so I think so!”  
Rottenella gasped and hugged her father happily. “I’m so happy for you, Dad!”  
Robbie hugged her back. “Thanks Rottenella, and thank you for encouraging me to ask her on a date!”  
“I’m just glad you both finally admitted it. That took forever!” she said with a silent laugh.  
“Well it was worth the wait, nonetheless.” Robbie noted. He scooped his daughter up into his arms. “Come on, it’s way past your bedtime!”

He carried his daughter up the stairs and tucked her into her bed. And as he made his way back to his room and laid in his bed, his mind was still repeating those happy last minutes of his first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this conclusion is satisfying for everyone, and that it's okay! I don't know how I feel about this, but I think it turned out okay. I hope you all enjoyed this little two parter!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Anywhere Else Is Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus/Magnus makes a fateful decision one night.

He knew it was a bad idea.

Yet, he did it anyway.

It was a requirement of the young elves after completing their physical tests to report their results to their guardian figures. The reasons given were for developmental strategies: elven children who scored lower than expected could focus their training on developing the weaker skills to balance out their abilities, while adept children could choose to specialize in their ability to become masters of their skills, usually benefitting whatever job they felt fit them.  
Thus, when Magnus’s results were delivered to him, Fylkir had told him to mail it right away to his father. Both Magnus and Fylkir knew the results of the test, but Magnus knew just how devastated his father would be. He knew this well; he’d already gotten a healthy taste of how the village and his peers reacted.  
He shifted on his bed, drawing his knees closer to his chest. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against his knees. He closed his eyes as he fought back the sickly feelings and thoughts that rushed to his head.  
He remembered how he tried to hide the results. He’d lied to Fylkir, told him he’d sent the results to his father just like he’d asked him. Instead, he’d locked the test results in a box, then buried it in the yard. The hole he’d dug wasn’t super deep, but he thought it’d be deep enough to cover the box completely and not create a noticeable bulge in the lawn. He remembered the sigh of relief he felt once the accursed paper had disappeared under the earth, and thus symbolically, was buried from his mind.

He also remembered the terror he felt when the first downpour came.

Not enough time had passed since he’d first buried the box, and when the deluge of water fell and drenched the lands, the dirt washed away and exposed the metal box once more. And of course, that was the night that Fylkir had decided to visit and help Magnus with dinner. And, of course, he had spotted the box in the yard and opened it. Magnus remembered the absolute disappointment and fury on the elder elf’s face, and how Fylkir had chewed him out over his lack of honesty and how badly he could’ve messed up his future training since no one would’ve known the limits of his abilities.  
And thus, the test results were sent regardless, along with a strongly worded letter from Fylkir about Magnus’s deception and sneakiness. Íþró responded quickly, stating that he was immediately turning his airship around for home.

Magnus had seen his father’s airship land at the dock earlier in the evening. As soon as he spotted the yellow balloon, he ran and locked himself in his bedroom. He knew eventually he’d have to face his father’s disappointment and anger, but he wasn’t ready.

Then again, he wasn’t sure if he’d _ever_ be ready.

\--

Íþróttaálfurinn and Fylkir entered the home together quietly, closing the door silently behind them. Fylkir, ever the face of calm distance, seemed peaceful and detached as he glided across the floor, sitting down carefully on one of the dining room chairs. Íþró, meanwhile, looked like the poster boy for stress. Worry lines were burned into his forehead, and his mouth was turned into an ever-present frown. He shook his head and paced across the floor, tracing the same path over and over again.  
“Please Íþrottaálfurinn, sit down. We must begin our discussion immediately.” Fylkir said lowly, his voice not betraying an ounce of emotion.  
Íþró sighed and shook his head. “I can’t, Fylkir. When I got your letter, it just didn’t make sense. Maggi is a good kid, he would never deliberately lie to someone like you and go so far to hide what he did. You know him, he’s a poor liar. It’s a good trait for him. I just…” He paused his pacing. “…it doesn’t make sense.”  
“Sense or not, it happened and we must discuss his test results.” Fylkir said, picking up the scroll, its surface crinkled and slightly wrinkled.  
Íþró gave an absent nod and sat down, resting his elbows on the table and gripping his forehead in stress, his heel tapping against the wood floor.  
Fylkir cleared his throat and unrolled the scroll. “As you are aware of Íþróttaálfurinn, the physical test is graded on a scale of 0 to 100. 100, of course, being a perfect score with the possibility, though rare, for individuals to score higher. And 0 denotes either an incomplete test or total, abject failure with no grounds for improvement. An average score as determined through historical tests is around an 84.”  
Íþró gestured at Fylkir impatiently. “Yes, yes I know how the scoring system works. What was Maggi’s score?”  
Fylkir gave the hero a sympathetic look before he lowered the scroll. “Magnus’s score is…unsatisfactory to say the least. His total score, taking into account the individual scores, totaled out to a 67. _Far_ below average.”  
Íþró’s heel stopped its tapping. He lifted his head and looked the elder elf in the eyes. “ _That_ much lower?”  
Fylkir nodded. “I give my sincerest condolences, Íþróttaálfurinn. I know there was so much hope for your son to be your successor, but with a score like this he is far from the ideal candidate.”

Íþró bit his lip and looked down thoughtfully. He stayed silent for a full minute before a small smile crept onto his face. He laughed and shook his head. He looked up again at Fylkir with a relieved look on his face. “Well, I’m glad it was just that! From the wording of your letter, you made it sound like something grave had occurred!”  
Fylkir looked at the hero in disbelief. “Did you not just hear what I said? Your son Magnus, son of Íþróttaálfurinn, who broke records with his score of 136, scored below average on the physical exam. He can’t possibly be your successor, and yet you’re happy? How can you be so relaxed?”  
Íþró nodded and shrugged. “Sure, that is a bit disappointing. I would’ve been overjoyed to give my title to my own son and supervise his training. But this isn’t the end of the world. I know my son is amazing, regardless of what that score seems to say. Sure, maybe he won’t be the next Sportacus. But I know he’ll find what he’s good at and be happy in whatever he chooses to do.” He gave the other elf a look. “Did you really think I’d be furious over this?”  
Fylkir looked away in embarrassment and shock. “…Perhaps.”  
Íþró chuckled and shook his head. “Then you must really not know me, Fylkir. If I’m anything right now, I’m just confused on why Maggi would want to hide this from me. I’m not the type to get angry and disappointed over something like this. I know he’s a good kid, and that’s what matters.”  
Fylkir shook the embarrassment and disbelief from his face and cleared his throat, a clammy coldness encompassing his hands. He twiddled his fingers nervously as he said, “I have a theory.”  
Íþró’s smile faded. “Oh?” he asked.  
Fylkir looked uneasily at the hero. “I didn’t want to tell you until later, but there’s been…talk about your son around town. Disappointment, hopes being dropped as they describe it. As much as you might’ve not minded, many of the other elves wanted and hoped for your son as your successor. You know how much everyone likes to dream of a Sportacus line that harkens back to Sportacus 1 and 2. Your son and you seemed like the best shot to relive that glory.”  
The realization hit Íþró like a truck. The jovial ease instantly evaporated and his smile was replaced with the original frown he sported when he came through the door. He looked at Fylkir gravely. “Fylkir, that talk you’re mentioning. Please tell me the folk have kept it to themselves at the least.”  
“You know I can’t promise something like that, Íþróttaálfurinn. Not all of the others have the tact to keep such thoughts to themselves.”  
An icy rage surfaced on Íþró’s face. He remained quiet for the moment, however, only allowing what Fylkir said to process and simmer in his mind.  
Fylkir was instantly unnerved by the rage that emanated from the usually cheerful, patient hero. With a shaking hand, he drew a vertical line in the air, whispering a few choice words under his breath. Like a zipper, a pocket opened up in the universe, and Fylkir pulled another scroll from its hold. He waved his hand, and the tear sealed itself once more. He handed the paper to the hero.  
“There was also this.” Fylkir noted, his tone betraying how unsure he was over bringing up this additional amount of information.  
Íþró took the scroll with a forced level of calmness. He unrolled the paper, his eyes drifting down to words on its surface:

_“Performance Report as written by Auðna:_

_Recently I’ve witnessed that Magnus appears to be acting more reclusive and distant from the other children. During play hours, he no longer plays with the other children and seems to keep to himself. His school work remains as proficient as ever, however his sociability is beginning to decline._

_Post class time, I have also witnessed Magnus heading towards the training fields where he’s reportedly spent up to eight hours after school training and practicing. While dedication is obviously rewarded in our society, this level of obsession worries me. He seems defensive when questioned about his practice, and nothing from bad weather to his own weariness seems to deter him from practicing._

_A play hour monitor also reported that a bullying incident had occurred focusing on Magnus. She claims that multiple other children had ganged up on him, shouting aggressive remarks such as, and I quote, ‘you must be the defective kid of Íþró, his real son would’ve never earned such a sorry score’, ‘can’t even jump the fifty-foot marker, can you? Thought not. Some elf you are.’, and so forth. While she states that this incident seems isolated, I have my doubts._

_I recommend that we counsel Magnus and determine the extent of the bullying in order to best help him through this troublesome time.”_

Íþró slowly let go of the paper, allowing it to shift and flop onto the table. “You’re telling me that, for the last few months at least, Maggi has been bullied and harassed by both his peers and the other villagers just over this stupid test?” he asked coolly.  
Fylkir’s usually detached expression soon shifted to an anxious one. “I-I believe, that would be correct.”  
“And no one told me?” the hero asked, gritting his teeth.  
“Well, many of those reports are unverified so we didn’t feel it would be right to act immediately.” Fylkir tried to explain.  
Íþró quickly stood to his feet. He sharply turned his direction towards the hallway, not giving another glance to the elder elf.  
“Íþróttaálfurinn, what are you doing?” asked Fylkir nervously.  
Íþró stopped and turned on his heel, and his glare nearly shot daggers into Fylkir’s heart. He then said, rather matter-of-factly, “I’m just going to go see my son, Fylkir. I’m going to take him into my arms and assure him that no number on a piece of paper is going to determine his worth or what he can and cannot be. I’m going to make sure that my son knows he’s loved and appreciated, and that his physical skill in the end isn’t important.” He lowered his eyes and bared his teeth, displaying the full extent of his fury. “In other words, I’m doing what everyone _should have_ been doing this entire time, instead of allowing themselves to be caught up in placing an undue amount of pressure _on a twelve-year-old_.” He fumed.

Fylkir’s mouth closed shut, and he could only watch silently as the hero strode down the hallway towards his son’s room.

\--

As soon as he heard the front door shut, Magnus pulled his legs even closer to his chest. He plugged his ears and forcefully shut his eyes, trying to block out the most assuredly negative conversation his father was having with Fylkir. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he cursed his bad luck.

Why didn’t he dig that hole a little deeper? Just a few inches more and that box would’ve remained hidden. Fylkir would’ve never found it.

Why did Fylkir have to open that box when he found it? Why did he have to tell his pabbi about his failings? Why did his pabbi have to agree to come home immediately?

Why couldn’t he just have passed that exam?

His eyes slowly opened, a few tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks as he gazed at his legs. Bruises dotted his tanned skin in varying colors, ranging from a pinkish red, to dark blueish-purple, to sickly yellow with bits of violet. Blisters and callouses dotted his feet from the miles he’d make himself run every day after school. He gazed at his hands, which were similarly covered in small cuts, blisters, and callouses. The remnants of his continuous weight lifting and similar activities. There was a lingering ache in his body from the tumbles and flips he’d practice as well, along with a few misplaced bruises and cuts from failed landings.

His mind, now with less to be distracted by from his blocking of the conversation, instead turned to the memories of the months after the physical exam. The lowered eyes and disappointed glances the townsfolk would give him. The whisperings they would share with each other, under the incorrect assumption that Magnus couldn’t hear them.

_“Who would’ve thought a son of Íþróttaálfurinn would fail so poorly? Are they sure he’s his actual son?”_

_“It is a true shame. Such hopes for another familial line of Sportaci, dashed in an instant.”_

_“Íþró must surely be disappointed in him. He hasn’t shown his face here for the last few months. He must still be processing the results.”_

Magnus shook his head and firmly knocked his head, hoping to drive away the painful and distressing memories. Instead, they flowed more rapidly. He remembered how his peers would see the bruises and callouses that dotted his body, and would all sneer. His mind forcefully played memories of his bigger classmates shoving him around, mocking him for how he was unable to throw them off. He remembered the teasing, the mockery, the judgement.

_“What’s the matter, Magnus? Can’t fight us off? Come on, even a toddler could at least fight back. Hear that? You’re weaker than a baby. Why do you even try anymore?”_

_“Ugly callouses you got there! Are you still trying to catch up? Face it, it’s not going to happen! Just give up already!”_

_“Too slow, too weak, not nimble enough. That’s all that you are, Magnus!”_

Tears poured down his face as the voices grew louder, repeating the awful words of his classmates. He clasped the side of his head and shook feverishly, whimpering and sobbing as the memories flowed fast, unwilling to stop. Soon they mixed with other thoughts, ones purely from his own imagination. The fear of his father’s disappointment, only confirming the words and whispers of his community. The pit in his heart grew larger.  
He thought that if he sat out his pabbi’s initial conversation with Fylkir he’d be ready for his reaction. But he soon realized he’d never be ready for his pabbi’s reaction. He never wanted to see it.  
“I can’t…” he muttered to himself, sniffling and wiping away the thick tears. His eyes turned towards the window, the dock and airship stations in view. His father’s airship remained tied to the dock at the far east side. Between it and several covered projects laid one, near finished, airship. No distinctive markings dotted its balloon, and while the frame was still rough and unpolished and the main ship was missing some details, it still looked flight-worthy.

An idea crossed Magnus’s mind, one he’d entertained multiple times before.

He nodded his head, sniffling once more. It was time.

Here, in his homelands, his fate and worth had already been decided before he got a chance to prove himself. But elsewhere? It would be a clean slate.

Hopping off his bed, he slid over to his chest of drawers and pulled out a few pairs of clothing, stuffing them into a rucksack. He took the food he’d stored away in his closet (kept fresh with his own magic) and shoved them into the sack as well. Finally, he packed away some survival necessities (small weaponry, first-aid kit, additional items). Peering at his nightstand, he snatched his sports crystal off the table and hung the chain around his neck. He tugged open the window, pausing just as he was about to leap out the window. Biting his lip, he turned back to his room and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. With a shaking hand, he jotted down a quick note. He folded it and left it on his pillow.

He turned back to the window, looking back on his room one last time. A pull of reluctance tugged at his heart, urging him to stay for whatever reason. But he knew he couldn’t. With a sigh, he steeled himself, staying firm with his decision. Looking away from his childhood home, Magnus leapt out the window, tumbling into the lawn outside. Rolling back onto his feet, he made a mad dash towards the shore, his sight set on the airship docks.

\--

Íþró quickly rapped his knuckles against the door.

“Maggi? Are you in there? Can I come in?”

No response.

Íþró felt his heart drop. “Maggi, please, it’s okay. I know about the test and believe me, I’m not upset. Not in the slightest. I just want to know what’s going on. I want to help you, litla. Please, let me in.”

Silence.

Íþró chewed on his lip nervously, looking worriedly at Fylkir. Fylkir uneasily gestured towards the door. The hero nodded and sighed anxiously.

“Maggi, I’m sorry, I’m coming in. We really do need to talk.” Íþró said, as he turned the doorknob.

Pushing open the door, Íþró stepped inside, his brow furrowing in concern as he glanced about the room. The window was left ajar, and various clothes were strewn across the floor. Yet, Magnus was nowhere to be seen.

“Maggi? Where are you?” Íþró asked, his tone growing more worried. He searched through the room, shoving aside dressers and shelves as he looked for his son. Fylkir looked through the boy’s closet and his toy chest, before glancing at the bed.

“Íþróttaálfurinn, there’s a note.” He said quietly.

Íþró turned and snatched the paper off the bed. He ran a hand nervously through his hair as he unfolded the small note. It was written in his son’s handwriting, but he could see through the squiggly-ness that it was written in a hurry. A few tearstains dotted the paper. The note was short, but it still punched Íþró in the gut.

_“Pabbi,_

_I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about my exam results, and I’m sorry I tried to hide them from you. I was scared that you’d be disappointed in me and that you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same ever again. I know you and everyone wanted me to be the next Sportacus, but it looks like I can’t be that. No one seems to believe I can do anything anymore. I try so hard, but for nothing. They can’t see me for anything other than my exam score._

_That’s why I’m leaving. I’m leaving and I don’t plan on coming back. I don’t think I can come back after what I’m about to do. I’m so sorry, Pabbi. I love you so much. I’m going to make you proud someday. I’ll make my own path. I’ll miss you so much._

_-Magnus”_

Íþró’s hands shook, and the letter drifted from his hands, floating and drifting under Magnus’s bed. His heart shattered into pieces and the world seemed to slow to a standstill. He didn’t even register the fact that Fylkir was shaking his shoulder roughly, trying to earn his attention.  
“Íþróttaálfurinn?? What’s wrong? Where’s Magnus? Was he taken??” asked the elder elf nervously.  
Íþró took in a sharp breath and looked at Fylkir. Momentarily, his eyes drifted towards the window, where the sight of the airship docks was present. His pupils shrunk and he looked back at the other elf with watery eyes.  
“Fylkir, get every able person you can find and make them spread out. Maggi wasn’t taken; he’s trying to run. Get them to search the rest of the island. You and I are going to the airship docks.”  
“The docks? Why?”  
“Maggi is trying to leave the island. We need to catch him before he does.”

\--

Within minutes, a search party had been assembled of every elf Fylkir could find. Wielding torches and illumination spells, the townsfolk combed through the city, the fields, and the beaches, calling and searching for Íþró’s son. A few of the elves had brought their hounds, using an old scarf of Magnus’s as a lead as they sniffed high and low for the young elf. The cries of Magnus’s name rang through the darkness as the parties began to spread out.

Meanwhile, Íþró and Fylkir were booking it to the airship docks, bounding and leaping over rocks and ledges as they skidded down to the beaches. Íþró’s heart beat in his chest, blocking out all sounds as he single-mindedly sprinted towards the docks, a sliver of hope alive in his heart that maybe, just maybe, he’d catch Magnus before he leapt onto his airship. That he could convince him not to leave. That he could help Magnus through everything that had happened.

As the two elves closed in on the docks, they stopped as they reached Íþró’s ship. Much to both of their surprise, the ship remained untouched. Its lead line was still tied tightly to the post, and the lights inside were not turned on.  
“So he hasn’t tried to take my airship yet.” Íþró noted in between pants. He gave a weary nod. “T-Then he might still be here. We will catch him.”  
Fylkir panted and looked around the corner, his ears drooping at the sight. “Íþróttaálfurinn, look.” He said, pointing to a pile of boxes on the other dock.  
Laying against the boxes, his arms and legs bound with thick ropes, was a man that Íþró recognized as a deckhand. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, with a light blue aura encompassing his form. Light blue. Magnus’s magic was light blue.  
Íþró sped to the man’s side and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the blue light vanished and the man shot up into a sitting position, panting and gasping in a panicked fashion. His attention shot straight to Íþró, his eyes shrinking.  
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry Íþróttaálfurinn! I tried my hardest to protect the prototype ship, but he was too fast! Before I knew it he cast a sleeping spell on me and I couldn’t do anything! Please don’t report me to my boss!”  
“Who? Who cast the sleeping spell and took the ship?”  
The man looked guiltily at the hero. “It…It was your son. He knocked me out and took the airship.”  
Íþró’s heart broke again. His face paled as tears rolled down his cheeks once more. He glanced up at the horizon, the realization hitting him fully. He’d come too late. His son was gone, having gotten who knows how far in the airship already. That particular airship was designed and built to be particularly speedy and aerodynamic, even in its incomplete stage. Íþró’s airship was fast, but not _that_ fast. Even if he leapt into his airship right now, and even if it was ready for takeoff, he’d still have to clock double the airship’s speed ability to catch up to his son, whichever direction he’d gone.

He sunk to his knees. His son was gone for good, and he had no ability to know where he’d gone, if even Magnus knew that himself. Tears continued to streak his cheeks, his eyes fixed on the horizon.  
“I’m so sorry, Íþróttaálfurinn.” Said Fylkir quietly, as he patted the hero’s shoulder.  
Íþró said nothing as he continued to stare at the horizon, willing his son to turn his ship around and fly back home.

\--

Magnus pulled back on a lever and pressed a few switches, setting the ship on autopilot. He stood up and got out of the pilot’s seat, pacing across the uneven flooring. The ship, while being close to finished, still had multiple areas that were unfinished. The airship creaked and groaned as he sped through the sky, speeding off to parts unknown. Some of the wind snuck in through the cracks and unfinished holes in the sides of the airship. It was imperfect, but it was just enough for Magnus.

He walked to the back of the ship and pulled open one of the unfinished windows. Like a small speck, he could see his homelands slowly vanish from view, being replaced with the spans of blue that was the ocean. The clouds obscured his vision of the blue water, leaving his path a gray-white color.

In that moment, Magnus felt a bit of melancholy. He thought about his pabbi. He thought about his home. Pabbi would be upset, he knew that, and would most likely miss him. Did he know he had left yet? Was he looking for him? Guilt crept into Magnus’s heart. He considered turning the ship around and heading right back. Apologize to the dockhand that he’d enchanted and stolen from. Face whatever was going to happen next.

But he remembered his mission. He remembered what he was trying to do. He had to go make his own destiny, away from the restrictions and confinement of elven society. Away from the disappointed looks and endless teasing of his peers. Away from everything he knew. He closed the window and shook his head, fighting back the oncoming tears. Even with his mission in his mind, he still felt sad and guilty.

Giving one last glance to the window, he said, “I’m sorry, Pabbi. I promise I’ll make you proud.”, then turned and walked back to the pilot’s seat, glancing through a map to figure out where he wanted to go to first.

\--

Íþró searched endlessly for years after his son’s disappearance. Piloting his airship, he scoured the earth, listening and looking for any hint or sign of Magnus’s presence. He questioned local after local, asking about a mysterious airship piloted by a young boy. Most would seem confused, but occasionally he’d get a look of understanding and a solid direction towards another town. He’d give them a thanks and head back to his airship, speeding off in the supposed direction of his son.

But as time passed, the clues became more scattered and fuzzy. There was a lot of circling and just barely missing his son by a day or two. It grew incredibly frustrating for the hero, and he’d often cry out his anger over getting so close to getting back his son, only for success to slip through his fingers with a “well, he stopped by for supplies three days ago”. The nights were filled with his pacing, his sleep grew increasingly restless.

The trail went cold once he’d stopped by a small town where Magnus had supposedly been. The locals told him that they’d seem him flying over the mountains to a far-off city, but were not sure which way he’d went. Taking a gamble, Íþró picked a direction and flew until he reached another town. Luck escaped him again; the town hadn’t seen an airship. He cursed his luck as a local told him about a storm that happened recently, and that possibly his airship might’ve stopped in a small town at the edge of a valley.

A lead. Íþró hopped into his airship and sped towards the town.

He landed the airship on the outskirts of town and approached a local. Surely, they’d have noticed an airship landing somewhere in their small town, and noticed an elf walking amongst the group of humans, right?

“No, no airship. And no elves either. Sorry mister, I’m sure I would’ve remembered if I saw someone like that.”

Desperately, he questioned more locals, who all returned the same answer. No elf, and no airship. Íþró gave his thanks and walked back towards his ship.

Halfway there, however, he fell to his knees and wept uncontrollably. The trail had gone cold. Any hope he had left of finding his son was gone.  
“I’m so sorry, Maggi…” he sobbed, his hands clasping at the dirt.

He stayed there for some time, crying and sobbing on the ground, before he finally got up and returned to his airship, plotting a course for home. He gave one last look to the valley town before he sped away.

\--

Barði hobbled across the path, carrying a basket close to his person. A cheery smile was present on his face as he walked along, keeping himself steady with his cane. He wasn’t quite the young elf he used to be, but he still made it a routine to walk to town on his own along the ocean cliff path. He couldn’t help it; he loved the view.

As he walked along slowly, a figure came into view. His eyes widened with recognition as he finally drew close enough.  
“Well Íþró, didn’t expect to see you here at this time. Aren’t you supposed to be in town helping with the Wishing Day festivities?”  
Íþró blinked and turned to his friend, a sad smile on his face. “I am. Sorry, I’ll be there soon. I just wanted to look a little longer.”  
Barði nodded, his eyes drifting down to the little slip of paper in Íþró’s hand. It was bright yellow and covered in gemstones and flower petals.  
“Wishing for the same thing as always?” he asked.  
Íþró nodded solemnly.  
“Perhaps this year you’ll get lucky? The spirits must know how much you want this.” Barði said hopefully.  
“I’ve been making this same wish for almost twenty years, Barði.” Íþró noted with a sigh. He looked at his friend sadly. “I think if the spirits were going to notice, they would’ve noticed by now.”  
Barði’s smile faded. He shuffled in his spot. “Well, we must keep hope, right? Maggi will come home soon enough.”  
“He hasn’t come home yet.” He answered tersely. He shook his head and sighed. “It’s all my fault, Barði. If I had just noticed sooner that he was hurting so badly…”  
“Now don’t start with that. You know as well as anyone that you were away at the time, saving people across the globe. And you’re not the one who bullied Magnus, it was everyone else.”  
“But he still felt like _I’d_ be disappointed and not love him anymore.”  
“That’s not from you though. The other elves made him feel like that. You know yourself you’d never do that.”  
Íþró sighed and nodded. “I know. I know.” He looked back up at the sky. “I worry about him so much, Barði. I keep hoping that he’ll come home, but he still hasn’t after all this time.”  
“Perhaps he finally found that path he so desperately wanted to make for himself? He’ll come back when he’s ready, Íþró.” He said, patting his friend on the back with a reassuring smile. “If we can’t find him, then we can only continue to hope and pray that he’s doing well and being successful in whatever he does, right?”  
Íþró slowly nodded, a thin smile crossing his face. “You’re right. I have to keep hope. He’ll come home again someday. And when he does, the first thing I’m going to say is how much I love him.”  
“That’s the spirit. Now come along, the festival is about to begin.” Barði said, coaxing the hero towards the path.  
Íþró smiled and shook his head. “I’ll be there soon. Just give me another minute.”

Barði assented and walked away.  
Íþró turned his attention back to the horizon, still looking with the slimmest of hopes that today would be the day his son would return. Even if not, he’d keep the hope alive, and keep watching the skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you might've guessed, this story takes place before the main storyline for the most part. Basically if you want the gist of it:  
> -The stuff with Magnus/Sportacus first running away from home takes place after "Waiting For Your Return" but before the main "Fall Greater Than He Ever Knew" storyline  
> -The ending bit is present, probably occurring around the same time as "Battle Scars"
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	9. Mission Accomplished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Spider Monkey is sent to save her fellow agent, Agent Blue. But has she possibly met a challenge she can't overcome?

“ _Agent Spider Monkey, we must warn you that the mission you’re about to embark on is incredibly treacherous. It’s possibly the most dangerous task you’ve ever been assigned, so listen closely._

_The evil Dr. Scar-Eye has been spotted in an abandoned factory outside of town, and it appears that he’s captured your fellow agent, Agent Blue. He plans to use hundreds of barrels of toxic waste to flood a nearby orphanage in his quest to rule the world. You have a window of one hour to save your fellow agent and stop Dr. Scar-Eye from killing hundreds of innocent children with toxic waste._

_Good luck on your mission, Spider Monkey. We’re all counting on you._ ”

Bría smirked as she thought over the words from her commander. She scaled the side of the old factory with her suction cup grips, looking down occasionally as she climbed swiftly upwards. She gasped as one of her suction cups momentarily lost its grip, leaving her temporarily dangling and looking down at the dizzyingly high height. Gritting her teeth, she swung her leg back towards the wall, a satisfying pop accompanying the suction cup reattaching itself to the outer wall. Sighing in relief, Bría continued her climb, her eyes fixed to the rooftop. The outer perimeters were heavily guarded and with the pipes guarded too, Bría determined that the best way in was through the roof. Of course, her helicopter had already been shot down, so an airdrop was out of the question. Hence, she was left with the viable, if not exhausting, option of scaling the outer walls after taking out a few guards.

Climbing up a few more feet, Bría flipped herself over the edge and onto the rooftop. She scanned the area for an entrance, a smile crossing her face as she noticed an uncovered airduct. Perfect. She snuck towards the piping and, after attaching her grappling hook to the side, began to scale down the darkened passageway. She swung carefully down the pipe, making sure to silence her feet’s impact against the metal sides as much as possible. Seemed to be going smoothly; Bría was already drawing closer to the bottom of the duct.

Then, her hook slipped.

With a short cry, Bría found herself freefalling. Fumbling around in her pockets, she searched for her suction cups, hoping to attach herself to the side wall before she met her noisy and painful death. As she careened closer to the bottom of the piping, the metal surface opened up to reveal the actual factory floor, much to Bría’s surprise. Twisting into a tuck and spin, she flipped herself feet down and landed harshly on the dirt floor, squinting as a bright spotlight was shone on top of her.

From above, a platform extended out halfway across the floor. Standing at its edge was a man, tall and greasy looking, decked in an ill-fitting suit and stroking a Persian cat. He gave a crooked and wicked grin to the agent as he uttered a low laugh.  
“Well Agent Spider Monkey, we meet again!” he cackled.  
“Dr. Scar-Eye! Where’s Agent Blue?” cried Bría.  
“Oh, I’m afraid Agent Blue is a little ‘tied up’ at the moment! Perhaps you can see him later?” taunted the villain.  
Bría scowled. “Where is he, you monster!”   
Dr. Scar-Eye grinned and snapped his fingers. One of his henchman shone a light towards an open area on the factory floor covered in metal. Laying right in the middle of this space, right in the center of a giant painted “X”, was Agent Blue. He uttered a muffled cry as he fought against his restraints, his pointed mustached being pushed upwards by his gag.  
“It’s negotiation time, Agent Spider Monkey! I’ll let your little friend there go if you agree to join me as my right-hand agent. If you refuse, then in exactly five minutes I will dump that gigantic vat of toxic waste right on your friend! And I doubt he’ll get super powers from that.” Dr. Scar-Eye laughed evilly, pointing to the gargantuan barrel of green, glowing waste.  
Bría looked in horror and worry at her fellow agent’s situation, but upon hearing the offer she scowled at the villain. “I would NEVER join your cause, Dr. Scar-Eye! You’re evil and everyone knows that!”  
Dr. Scar-Eye sighed and shrugged. “Oh well, your loss. Well, in this case, both yours AND his!” he cackled, pushing a bright red button on a remote.

A horn blared out and warning lights began to flash. The giant barrel of waste slowly inched towards Agent Blue’s location. Bría lowered her eyes and charged towards the agent’s position, coming face to face with multitudes of heavily armed henchman. She smirked. Leaping upwards, she spun and landed a flying kick on the first of the agents, tossing his unconscious body towards a horde of others. Stunned by their collision with their friend, they weren’t prepared for Bría to swiftly take out all of them, throwing multitudes of punches and kicks in their direction. Pulling out her retractable baton, she fought off a few more henchmen, knocking away their guns and other weapons before knocking them out too. One henchman tried to sneak up on her from behind; she simply back kicked him into a pillar.   
“Too easy!” remarked Bría, glancing at the piles of knocked out evil doers. Remembering her mission, she sprinted towards her fellow agent, seeing that she had mere seconds to save him as the vat drew closer to the edge. Agent Blue squirmed uneasily in his spot, his muffled cries growing more distressed as the barrel began to tip. Bría rolled towards his position, clutching him tight to her chest, before dashing away, just barely missing being splashed by the waterfall of smelly, glowing green slurry.   
Tearing off his gag, Bría looked at the agent worriedly. “Are you okay, Agent Blue?”  
Agent Blue smiled. “Never better, Agent Spider Monkey. Thanks for saving me.”  
Bría smiled. “No problem! Agents always look out for each other, right?”  
“Right!” responded Agent Blue.

A stream of slow claps sounded behind them. Both agents turned to see Dr. Scar-Eye glowering at them from above.  
“Bravo, bravo! I must say, Agent Spider Monkey, that was quite good. Very good indeed.” He said sarcastically. A wicked smirk crossed his face. “But not QUITE good enough.” He said lowly. He snapped his fingers, and Agent Blue was wrenched from Bría hold while she was thrown back against another open area with metal flooring.  
“Agent Blue!” Bría cried out as she watched her fellow agent be dragged away.  
She glared at Dr. Scar-Eye as he continued to laugh.  
“Well, I have to say Agent Spider Monkey, this was fun! But I must go now! I have orphanages to destroy, agents to _brainwash_.” He remarked with a toothy smile. “And you too have places to be! I have a vacation planned out for you! I’m sure you’ll just _fall_ for it!” he said with a peal of laughter.  
Yanking on a lever, Dr. Scar-Eye grinned as the floor opened up beneath Bría, revealing a pit filled with toxic waste. Bría gasped and flailed uselessly at the air, unable to grab onto any edge as she began to fall.  
“Tah-tah, Agent Spider Monkey!” said Dr. Scar-Eye mockingly, before he turned and joined his henchmen.

As Bría met her approaching doom, all she could do was scream.

\--

“What’s going on in here? What’s with all the yelling?” asked Robbie.  
  
Bría blinked. The scene of the pit filled with toxic waste vanished. Replacing it was a view of a world upside down, her black curls pressed deep into the carpet. Her “grappling hook” (in reality a broken jump rope) tumbled out of her pockets and onto the floor. Quickly, she righted herself, shooting a wide grin at her papa.  
“I’m a secret agent, Papa! Secret Agent Spider Monkey!” she exclaimed.  
Robbie gave her an amused grin. “Really now? That sounds interesting. So, were you upside down because you were scaling a building?”  
Bría shook her head. “No, I was in trouble! The evil Dr. Scar-Eye had dumped me into a pit of toxic waste!”  
“Well that doesn’t sound good. Did you manage to save yourself?” asked Robbie.  
“Not sure. Haven’t figured that out yet.” Bría admitted sheepishly.  
Robbie smiled affectionately. He pulled a teddy bear with a badly stitched eye off a shelf. “Why does this teddy bear have a little tuxedo on?”  
Bría gasped. “That’s Dr. Scar-Eye! He’s the bad guy that wants to fill the world with toxic waste!”  
“Hmm, well Dr. Scar-Eye needs to work on his plans a bit. That seems like a pretty unproductive plan.” Commented Robbie with a snicker. He stood up taller, adjusting his vest. “A real villain, like I was, would’ve at least created a plan that would’ve gotten me _something_. His is just inconvenient and ludicrous.”  
“That’s why he’s evil though, right?” Bría noted.  
Robbie shrugged. “You got me there.” He stopped as he finally passed by Bría’s bookshelf. He looked down and spotted his elf husband laying on the ground, his arms and legs bound together. Sportacus grinned happily at his husband.

“Hello dear, how was your day?” asked Sportacus with a joking air.  
Robbie quirked an eyebrow. “Not as interesting as yours, apparently. What’s going on here?”  
“Agent Blue’s been kidnapped by Dr. Scar-Eye!” stated Bría.  
Robbie chuckled to himself. “Losing your hero touch, eh Agent Blue? It’d usually take at least a sugar apple to get you in this position.”  
Sportacus smirked. “What can I say? All heroes have an off day.”  
Robbie tugged experimentally at the ropes. He gave his daughter a surprised look. “Geez Bría, these knots are pretty good. How’d you learn to tie them?”  
“From my Lazy Scouts handbook!” Bría said proudly. “Chapter 19 and 37 are all about knots!”  
Robbie smiled and laughed. “Well, if you ever become a villain one day, you’ll be at least more successful at restraining heroes than I was.”  
“Well, you also tried to trap me without restraints in tiny metal cages.” Pointed out Sportacus.  
“Call it cockiness, or laziness. Either way, I wouldn’t have bothered.” Said Robbie with a laugh. He stood up. “Well, I just came by to make sure you two were alright. I’d better go back to making dinner.”

Bría pouted and stood up. She pulled on her papa’s sleeve. “But Papa, couldn’t you play with us for just a teeny, tiny bit? Pleeeeeaase?” she begged, giving her papa the best puppy eyes she could muster.  
“I really need to make dinner, Bría.” Said Robbie weakly.  
“Aww, come on Robbie. I think Agent Spider Monkey could use some back up.” Commented Sportacus, giving his husband a small smile.  
Bría nodded enthusiastically.  
Robbie sighed and shook his head. An affectionate smile crossed his face.  
“Okay, I’m in. Just call me Agent Rotten.”

\--

Bría’s screams were cut off as a dart zipped through the air. It pinned the back of her shirt against the wall, saving her from plummeting into the toxic waste. She looked up, seeing a figure in purple dart across the catwalk.  
Dr. Scar-Eye gasped in alarm as the man charged through and knocked out the henchmen with ease. He pointed a gun at the villain, who stuck his hands up feebly.  
“W-Who are you?” the villain squeaked.  
“Just call me Agent Rotten.” He stated with a confident look.  
The villain whimpered as his hands were bound.

Agent Rotten leapt down to the ground and sprinted towards Bría’s position. Offering a hand, he lifted her away from the pit of waste and back onto the safety of solid ground.  
“Thanks Agent Rotten, you came just in time!” she said cheerfully.  
“It’s nothing, Agent Spider Monkey. Now, where’s Agent Blue?” he asked.  
Bría pointed at the open door towards a helicopter. “There! But we should hurry, they’re leaving!”

Both agents charged through the door and out to the landing pad. The helicopter was already several feet up in the air.  
“I’ve got my grappling hook, hang onto me.” Said Agent Rotten.  
Bría nodded and held on tight as the other agent shot the hook up into the air, which looped itself around the copter’s landing gear. The two rappelled up into the air and landed inside the helicopter. They swiftly fought off the three guards before sneaking towards the pilot. Bría tapped his shoulder, earning a fearful squeak from the man, before she kicked him out the side door.   
Agent Rotten had already undone Agent Blue’s bindings by the time Bría regrouped with the two.  
“Thank you two, you really saved my skin today!” said Agent Blue.  
“It’s no problem, Agent Blue.” Answered Agent Rotten. He smiled warmly. “You don’t have to ask me twice to save you.”  
Agent Blue smiled back and leaned in, kissing his fellow agent.  
Bría stuck out her tongue. “Pabbi! Papa! This isn’t a romantic story! No kissing!”

Agent Rotten looked up and gave his agent a little look. “Hey, shouldn’t there be someone piloting the helicopter so we don’t crash into the ground?”  
Bría was about to protest, but he was right. She groaned and trudged back towards the controls. “Fine, but once I land this copter, no more kissing!” she called back.  
Agent Rotten smirked, turning his attention back to his fellow agent. “Well, that’s what she gets for asking _me_ to assist her with a mission.”  
“Seems like a fair enough trade.” Said Agent Blue, before the two leaned in for another kiss.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the kind of stuff I write late at night. Methinks I should take Sportacus's advice and go to bed.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	10. Sleepy Summer Evenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie and Bria go get ice cream.

“Come on Bría, grab your coat. We’re going out for ice cream.” Announced Robbie, throwing on his orange jacket.

Bría gasped and immediately hopped out of her chair, dashing towards her father with the biggest grin on her face. “You mean it? We’re gonna have ice cream??” she said excitedly.  
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Now come on, you really think your papa would joke around about _ice cream_? Go run and get your jacket, I’ll wait by the door for you.”  
Bría cheered and ran towards her bedroom, leaping over discarded toys and the half-filled laundry basket sitting in the living room.  
Sportacus stood up from his spot at the table, looking in distress at his husband. “Robbie, we haven’t even had dinner yet! Sweets are for after dinner, not before!”  
Robbie waved him off. “Ah, let the kid live a little Sportadork. One night of having dessert before dinner won’t kill her. Besides, I haven’t gotten much time to spend with her lately, so this’ll be good for the both of us.”  
Sportacus bit his lip. “I don’t know, it’s really not healthy for her to miss dinner.”  
“How about this, we’ll jog to the ice cream stand and afterwards we’ll jog back here. That way, it’s, _*gag*_ , exercise?” Robbie said with a cringe.  
Sportacus gave his husband a look. “You’re really going to exercise?”  
“Cross my heart.” Robbie said, drawing an “x” over his chest.  
Sportacus smiled. He shook his head and sighed. “Alright, but just this once. And make sure she doesn’t eat too much ice cream! She won’t go to sleep otherwise.”  
“I make no promises.” Robbie said with a smirk, looking down as he felt his daughter clamp around his leg.  
Bría bounced up and down in anticipation. “Let’s go, papa! I’m ready for ice cream!”  
Robbie rolled his eyes and laughed. “Glad you’re learning patience at school. Before we go, I promised your pabbi that we’d jog to the ice cream stand. That sound good?”  
Bría nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah! Let’s just go!” she said, tugging on her father’s arm.  
  
As Robbie was pulled towards the door, he looked back and gave a half-smile to the hero. “I’ll see you in a bit then.”  
Sportacus leaned forward and gave Robbie a kiss on the lips. “Love you.”  
“Love you too.” Said Robbie, before exiting the house with Bría.

\--

A few minutes later, Robbie and Bría were sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, both licking up their frosty creations. Robbie, as per usual, got a triple scoop cone composed of a scoop of double fudge, a scoop of peanut butter, and a scoop of cake batter. Bría’s creation was a little less on the dessert side, being a triple scoop with one vanilla, one banana, and one strawberry scoop. Robbie mused that this was Bría’s attempt to rationalize eating all this ice cream before dinner.  
“ _But Pabbi, technically it was all made of sportscandy!_ ” he imagined her protesting later on, probably while Sportacus lectured her on eating too many sweets before dinner.  
He licked up a dribble that rolled from the mounds of ice cream onto the cone, humming at the delightfully sweet taste. He sat back, supporting himself with one hand behind him. He looked up at the steadily setting sun, the sky stained a bright collection of blue, pink, orange, and red. The air was warm and heavy, creating a blanket of stillness that relaxed Robbie’s muscles and made him feel lazier than usual which, admittedly, he wasn’t aware he was capable of being. Yet, there they both were, neither wanting to get up and do much of anything. The crickets chirped in the bushes nearby, and only the sound of a distant car broke the silence. Robbie sighed happily; he’d readily have more days like this, if he could have a choice.  
He looked over towards his daughter, chuckling as he peered at her ice cream stained face. He marveled at how much ice cream she’d already eaten, having reached the second scoop without any hint of stopping. Dare he say it, but his own daughter seems to have surpassed his own affinity for sweets. Even he was still on his first scoop.  


Bría, as if she noticed him watching, turned and looked up at her papa with a wide, colorful grin. “Thanks for the ice cream, Papa!” she said cheerfully.  
Robbie smiled. “No problem, Bría. You’re the only other person who can eat ice cream in the family, so I’ve been looking forward to this for a while.” He said. His smile faded as he looked away momentarily. “Hey I’m, uh, really sorry I haven’t been home a lot lately. Work is getting crazier than usual, what with all the new toy orders and the possibility of opening a second location soon. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you, it’s just not happening right now.” He said with a sigh.  
Bría looked up at her tired papa. “Could you take a vacation? Or call sick? Stephanie’s brother Bobby does that all the time.”  
Robbie chuckled. “I wish it were that easy. Unfortunately, when you’re a grown-up, you have responsibilities.”  
“What are ‘responsibilities’?” asked Bría.  
“They’re these things that you have to do, even if you don’t want to. Like paying bills, or cleaning dishes.” Robbie explained.  
“Do adults have a lot of them?”  
“WAY too many of them.” Robbie snickered.  
Bría frowned. “Then I don’t ever want to grow up. Being an adult sounds awful.”  
Robbie smiled at her warmly. “Part of me doesn’t want you to grow up either.” He said quietly. He pulled her closer into a one-armed hug. “At the same time, though, think about all the great things you’ll do when you grow up! Don’t think you’d want to miss that for the world, would you?”  
“I guess not.” Bría said, unconvinced.  
Robbie shrugged. “Well, at the least you’ll be able to ride the big rollercoaster if you’re grown up.”  
Bría perked up. “That does sound great!”  
“Consider it a trade-off then. More responsibilities, but at least you can ride all the rollercoasters.” Robbie said with a laugh.   
“And go to bars!” Bría added.  
Robbie’s eyes widened and he looked at his daughter in shock.  
“…At least, that’s what Bobby said grown-ups do.” She said more meekly.  
Robbie’s lips formed a thin line. “I see. Did he say what grown-ups do at the bars?”  
“He said something about, ‘picking up chicks’? I don’t really know what that means though.” Bría admitted.  
“And that’s a good thing, you’re not old enough for that yet.” Robbie said quickly.  
“But Bobby – “  
“Bobby doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Neither of you two should be talking about going to bars yet.” Robbie said, making a mental note to give a stern word to Bobby and Stephanie’s mother later on.  
Bría looked up at her papa sadly. “Sorry, Papa.”  
Robbie glanced down at her in surprise. “’Sorry’? You don’t need to be sorry silly. Just that things like that aren’t good subjects for kids your age.” He gave her a quick hug. “You don’t need to think about bars or anything like that right now. Besides, they stink anyways. Nothing to look forward to.”  
“Really?”  
“Really really.”  
Bría leaned against her father’s side. “Okay, Papa.”

The two sat there for a while longer, both eating up their ice cream happily and watching the skies. Bría reached her third scoop before she paused, her brow furrowed in thought.  
“A penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?” Robbie said with a smile.  
“Papa, when I’m grown up, will we still get ice cream together?” she asked.  
“I don’t think that’s even a question. Of course, we will, as long as you want to, and as long as I can eat ice cream.” Robbie said with a laugh.  
Bría breathed a sigh of relief. “So, adults don’t grow out of ice cream?”  
“Nope. Not the fun ones, at least. Or the sane ones.” Robbie said, taking another lap of his ice cream.  
“Can we sit on the curb like we are now?” she asked.  
“If you’d like. I don’t know if we’ll be in LazyTown at that point, but I guess if you’re across the world we can plan the plane tickets so we can sit right here and eat ice cream.”  
“You promise?”   
Robbie smiled. He ruffled his daughter’s mane of black curls. “Cross my heart.” He said quietly.  
Bría nodded. “Thanks, Papa.”  
“Of course, sweetheart.” He said, planting a kiss on her forehead.

The sun had mostly set by the time Robbie and Bría finished their ice creams. They were munching on the sugar cones when Robbie finally stood to his feet.  
“Come on, spider monkey. Your pabbi probably is wondering where we are. And if he asks, tell him you only ate one scoop, okay?”  
“Okay.” Bría said, hopping to her feet. The two walked along for a while in silence, Robbie lost in thought. He glanced down periodically at his daughter, watching her skip and dance alongside him. A brief wave of melancholy washed over him, his thoughts turning towards the future. For a brief moment, the image of the little girl was replaced with the vision of a full-grown woman. Too old to play on the swing set, too old to play with finger paints. His heart stopped. He fought back a tear as he shooed away the thought. He gave a single nod as he bent down and scooped up his daughter.  
“Papa!” said Bría in surprise.  
“No arguing, you’re getting a piggy back ride now.” Robbie said, lifting his daughter onto his shoulders. He helped her get situated before continuing forward, her shiny green rainboots now in his peripheral. She’d definitely grown since he’d last given her a piggyback ride.  
“And, screw it, I’m taking tomorrow off. How’d you like to go on a picnic? Or maybe go to the park?”  
“Papa, aren’t you busy?” asked Bría worriedly.  
Robbie shook his head. “Not anymore. What do you say, does that sound good?”  
Bría grinned. “Yeah!” she said. She gave her father a quick hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Papa!”  
“Love you too, sweetheart. Now let’s hurry home before your pabbi’s dinner gets too cold.” He said with a half-smile.

As the two ran down the lane, Robbie went to work thinking up the different things to do with his daughter and son the next day. Sure, there’d be a lot of work to do the after that. But he figured it was worth it.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like most of everyone else, I've heard the news about Stefan's health. I'm feeling pretty devastated right now, and I won't lie that I cried a bit. It's part of the reason why I wrote this chapter: I figured I'd write something fairly sappy and fluffy to help cheer up. 
> 
> Sorry if this is garbage. I wrote it in an hour because I just wanted to write something sweet and nice. Even then, though, it still got a little sad. Sorry. Guess I can't keep it out of my fluff right now.
> 
> I'll still be working on Tomorrow's Wind Will Blow, but it might take a while. I'm about to go on a trip with my family, and I've been just feeling down lately because of other stuff. I'll be back with a new chapter soon though.
> 
> Again, sorry if this isn't the best and that I'm rambling.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	11. Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sportacus, what did you like to do in the snow when you were a kid?”  
> “My favorite was building igloos!”
> 
> A story for the Fall Greater Than He Ever Knew AU, inspired by those lines from "The Snow Monster".

“Maggi…Maggi, _vaknaðu_!”

This sweet voice broke Magnus from the depths of his sleep. He blinked his eyes and yawned widely, rubbing his eyes as he rolled towards the source of the voice. As the sleepiness cleared from his vision, he was greeted by the warm and loving smile of his mother, her blonde hair brushed behind her long, pointed ears.  
She gently nudged her son one more time. “Maggi, _ertu vakandi_?” she asked.  
Magnus gave a single nod, rubbing his eyes once more. “ _Já, ég er vakandi_.” He said groggily.  
Bríana gave a soft smile. “Good. Look out your window, _litla_. It snowed last night.” She said in a hushed voice.  
Magnus blinked, the words being processed slowly in his mind. He leaned towards his window, turning his head to look out the glass. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the beautifully intricate, criss-cross designs the frost made on his glass, fogging and obscuring parts of the window’s clarity. The sill of the window was covered in thick, powdery snow, that reflected the bright light into his bedroom.  
He gasped, and looked excitedly at his mother. She smiled and nodded at her son.  
“Get up and get dressed, Maggi. If you eat your breakfast and brush your teeth, we’ll go outside to play.” She said, patting the edge of the bed as she stood up and walked out of the room.

Magnus wasted no time running towards his closet, digging out his wool coat and scarf, knitted in blue and white. He tied it around his neck and grabbed his dull brown, tattered boots out, hopping around as he struggled to tug them onto his feet. The last thing he gathered were his gray, knitted mittens, which he stuffed into his pockets as he dashed out of his room, rushing towards the front door. His feet stomped against the wood flooring as he closed upon the front door.  
In an instant, he froze as he was levitated a few inches above the floor, the low hum of magic filling the air. The hum was interrupted by the tsk-ing of his mother, who he saw shaking her head and looking at him sternly once he turned his head.  
“Maggi, did you forget already? You still need to eat breakfast!” she said, gesturing to a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, along with a warm milk drink.  
“Sorry, Mamma.” Magnus mumbled guiltily, averting his eyes towards the floor as he was slowly lowered back down. As soon as his mother’s powerful, bright red magic dissipated, Magnus tromped over towards the kitchen table, sitting himself down on his stool. He scooped up a large mouthful of steaming hot oatmeal, topping it with pieces of dried fruit. He hummed happily as he tasted the sweetness of the raisins on his tongue. He loved the preserved fruit his mother made.  


As he took another mouthful of oatmeal, the front door swung open, letting a chill permeate the warm and cozy kitchen. Both Magnus and Bríana turned towards the door, their surprise fading as Íþróttaálfurinn leapt into the entranceway, chuckling as he rubbed some frost off his bare arms.  
“My dear Bríana, this is the storm of the century! The snow is up to my knees out there! It’s truly a marvel to witness, my love!” he went on gleefully.  
Bríana smiled and glided gracefully towards her husband. She brushed some snow off the hero’s scarf as she said, “I imagine it is, but I would be more marveled if you remembered to remove your boots before stepping onto the wood floor.” She said with a small smile.  
Íþró’s eyes fell to his feet, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. “Ah, whoops. Let me just get these off then.” He said, tugging his boots off his feet, tossing them back towards the mat. Once his snow-caked boots were removed, he looked back at his wife, smiling lovingly.  
Bríana raised an eyebrow. “Now what are you thinking about, _hetja_?” she asked.  
Íþró smirked, before reaching around and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close to his chest. “I was just thinking about the snow outside. And how, as beautiful as it is, it doesn’t compare to you.” He said warmly.  
Bríana stuck out her tongue. “That was cheesy.”  
Íþró chuckled and kissed her forehead, trailing kisses down until he kissed her on the lips. Bríana sighed as she returned her husband’s kiss.  
Magnus put down his spoon, hopping off his stool and running towards his parents as he covered his eyes. “Mamma, I finished my breakfast! Can we go outside now?”  
Bríana paused, breaking away from the kiss to address her son. Íþró’s lips formed a thin line in disappointment.   
“So, you have? Then of course we can go outside. I’ll grab my scarf.” She said, heading towards the kitchen counter.  
Íþró looked down at his son as he felt him tugging at his pant leg, looking at him expectantly.  
“Are you looking for a piggy back ride?” asked Íþró with a grin.  
Magnus excitedly nodded, reaching up with his arms outstretched. “Pick me up, Pabbi!” he said cheerily.  
Íþró crouched down, allowing his son to scramble onto his back. Supporting his legs, Íþró stood back up, making sure his son had a good grip on his shoulders. Bríana soon joined them, her pale lavender scarf tied tightly around her neck.  
“Are we ready?” she asked.  
Magnus nodded, and Íþró smiled. “I think so! Let’s go, before the snow melts!” said Íþró jokingly.

As soon as the door swung open, a wave of chilled air hit all three elves. Magnus had to squint at the bright light outside, taking a minute to adjust and take in the endless fields of white snow. Any of the landmarks and gullies had been filled in with tons of the white, fluffy stuff, with only his father’s footprints breaking up the uniform, awe-inspiring sea of snow. Small, dusts of snow fell from the rooftop, and water drops dripped from the long and dangerous icicles that grew off the edges.  
Magnus’s eyes twinkled as he took in the sight, barely noticing as his father took a step into the snowy wonderland, his boots sinking in the deep frost.   
“You weren’t kidding about how much it snowed!” exclaimed Bríana, taking her own first step and sinking into the snow.  
Íþró grinned and pointed at a spot of snow ahead. “This way! The snow is shallower over there. We won’t lose Magnus in that snow.” He said with a laugh.  
Magnus frowned. “I won’t get lost!” he protested.  
Bríana smiled and shook her head, tugging a blue cap onto her son’s head. “ _Litla_ , you barely hit your pabbi’s knees. Maybe once you grow more, we won’t worry about you sinking in the snow.” She said reassuringly.

The three trudged their way through the heavy and deep snow, making their way slowly towards the spot Íþró pointed out. Once they made it, Íþró allowed his son to hop off his back. Magnus gleefully ran into the snow, leaning down to throw huge piles of snow up into the air, watching the clumps disintegrate into dust clouds up in front of his eyes. He laughed and squealed, rolling through the snow and making clumsy snow angels.  
Íþró and Bríana began on a snowman as Magnus ran through the snow, hopping after rabbits that bounced through the snow and chasing after the few birds that remained in the harsh winter months. Magnus helped his mom and dad roll snowballs to add a snowwoman and snowchild to the snow family the three were making.  
“He needs a mustache!” said Magnus, pointing at the taller snowman.  
Íþró raised an eyebrow. He looked at the snowman thoughtfully, stroking his mustache in thought. He smiled and nodded. “You’re right! Go find a twig or something. We’ll use that for the snowman.”  
Magnus excitedly dove into a snow drift, digging around until he hit the earth, finding a twig in the smashed grasses. With the mustache in place, the snow family was complete.

“Well, that was fun! What next though?” asked the hero.  
Bríana whistled and urged her family towards her. Íþró and Magnus ran towards the elven woman, who was stacking blocks of snow on top of each other.  
Íþró’s eyes widened. “Are you making an igloo?”  
Bríana nodded. “Of course! I used to make them all the time when I was Maggi’s age.” She said. She looked at her son. “Would you like to make one with me, Maggi?”  
Magnus gasped and excitedly nodded, digging up piles of snow for a snow block. He hastily packed the loose powder, frowning as the snow didn’t hold, falling back into lumpy piles rather than keeping a firm, block shape.  
“Like this, _litla_.” Said his mother patiently. She dug up some snow into a huge pile. She removed her gloves and held them open in front of the snow. Whispering some choice words, she closed her eyes as he hands began to glow. A bright red encompassed the snow, forcing it to swirl and coagulate into a solid, firm block. She opened her eyes and grinned at her son, who had watched the display in awe.  
“Do you think you could do that?” she asked.  
Magnus pursed his lips, and looked thoughtfully at the snow. He gave a single nod, and stared in determination at the pile. Holding out his hands, he forced his eyes shut and focused all of his power towards thoughts of squares, bricks, and ice cubes. His hands shook from exertion, and he kept this up until he finally gasped, his eyes opening as he panted. He looked at his hands expectantly. As his hands finally stilled, a small _piff_ sound rang through the air as a short, bright flash of sky blue reflected against the snow. He looked sadly at his mom.  
Bríana, however, only smiled proudly and propped her son’s chin up. “Maggi, that was wonderful!”  
“B-But I couldn’t cast the spell!”  
“Most your age can’t even awaken their magic, Maggi.” Explained his father. “That little spark shows you’re making tremendous progress!”   
Magnus looked at his parents in surprise. “Really?”  
Bríana hugged her son. “Of course, _litla_. I’m very proud of you, and I’m proud you tried.” She said. She smiled. “If you’d like to help though, how about you help Pabbi line up the snow blocks?”  
Magnus’s smile slowly returned, and he gave a nod, joining his father by the makeshift circle.

A system was soon created, with Bríana forming the snow blocks with her magic, as Íþró and Magnus helped form each layer of “bricks”. Magnus would heave the blocks up as the hero lined each one up, patting snow between each block to glue them together.  
Within an hour, the igloo was complete. Magnus didn’t even wait for his parents’ okay before he dove through the entrance, crawling into the main room. He grinned and peeked his head out of the entrance.  
“It’s perfect!” he said excitedly.  
Íþró chuckled. “Well, poke yourself back in there! Otherwise, we won’t be able to get in!” he said, crawling towards the entrance.  
Magnus backed up as both his parents crawled into the room, admiring their handiwork. The three sat, criss-cross, on the packed snow. Bríana summoned mugs of warm tea as Íþró regaled his son with tales of his adventures across the sea.  
“And that’s how I stopped an organized crime ring from overtaking an entire sea border!” Íþró said with a proud smile.  
Magnus, who was leaning forward with his head propped on his knees, smiled widely, his eyes twinkling. “D-Did you really do all that by yourself?”  
Íþró cocked his head to the side. “Well, not by myself no. The citizens of a small fishing community helped me with their boats and nets. Wouldn’t have caught the main bad guy without them!” he said.  
Magnus looked down thoughtfully, knocking his knees together. “I sure hope I get to be a hero like you someday, Pabbi.”  
Íþró smiled warmly and ruffled his son’s hair, knocking off his hat in the process. “We can hope, right? I know you’d be a fantastic hero.”  
Magnus looked up and smiled, fishing his hat from the snow.  
Bríana joined the two and handed them their cups of tea, sitting close to her husband.   
“Thanks, dear.”   
“You’re welcome.” Responded Bríana. She gave a sly grin to her son. “Well, since your father has been telling you about his adventures all afternoon, perhaps you’d like to hear one of mine?”  
Magnus gasped and sat back up. “You mean about when you were a captain?”  
Bríana nodded. “I have a good one, about the time I stopped a landslide that nearly took out the Northern village.”  
Magnus listened intently.  
Íþró smiled fondly. “I remember that day. That’s the day I met you.” He said lovingly.  
Bríana smiled back. “That’s why it’s a good one.” She said, kissing the hero’s cheek. She sat back as she began. “It was during the later half of fall when it happened…”

And that’s how the afternoon progressed. The three elves shared tales of their adventures, both big and small, while sipping on their mugs of tea as they each listened. Hours passed, and soon their stories were interrupted by a yawn and a shiver from little Magnus.

Íþró paused mid-sentence. “Oh? Is it getting late already? We should go inside for dinner!” he suggested.  
Bríana nodded and gently led her son towards the exit.   
Magnus pulled back and shook his head. “N-No, I’m okay! Let’s stay for a little longer!” he said.  
Bríana chuckled and brushed a thumb against her son’s cheek. “Maggi, your cheeks will turn blue if we stay any longer!” she said.  
“You’ll turn into a frost giant.” Said Íþró teasingly.  
Magnus’s eyes widened in horror. “W-Wait, really? B-But I don’t want to have to eat moss off rocks! O-Or scare people and freeze them to death! That’s mean!” he said worriedly.  
Bríana shook her head at her husband. “Your Pabbi’s only kidding, Maggi. You won’t turn into a frost giant.” She said reassuringly. She looked back at her son. “But you could get frostbite, or at least a nasty cold. Come along, let’s get inside.”  
The three crawled through the tunnel and back out into the open air. The sun was beginning to set, giving an extra bite to the already chilly wind. Íþró shivered at the feeling, tugging his scarf tighter around his neck and wrapping his arms around himself. He peered back to see Bríana carrying his son out of the igloo, his son leaning over her shoulder, his attention fixed on the igloo.  
“Mamma?” he finally asked.  
“Yes, Maggi?” she responded.  
Magnus paused before finally asking, “Could we make another igloo next year? If it snows again?”  
Bríana smiled. “Of course, we can, Maggi. We can make one every year if you’d like.” She said.  
Magnus nodded happily, before yawning once more.  
Bríana was about to say something, but she was cut off as she felt herself be lifted off the ground. She squeaked as she was shifted around until she was being carried bridal style in her husband’s arms, Magnus still clinging to her chest.  
“We’d better get you two inside, before you become snow elves!” Íþró said with a laugh.  
Bríana weakly frowned at her husband, shaking her head. “That was unnecessary.” She said.  
Íþró smiled and kissed her on the lips. “I know, but I know you love it.”  
“No I don’t!” she protested.  
“Oh yeah?” he said with a giggle. He kissed her again. “Then what’s that smile for?”  
Bríana smirked. “I’m smiling at the icicles on your mustache.” She said.  
Íþró looked down at his nose, finally spying the small icicles formed on his facial hair. He gave a half-cocked grin. “Heh, well there’s always a downside to fashion, isn’t there?”  
Bríana pecked her husband’s nose. “You’re so adorable.”  
Íþró returned her kiss with his own, kissing the shell of her ear and laughing as he watched it wiggle wildly.

Magnus, meanwhile, blocked out the syrupy exchange between his parents, feeling his eyelids grow heavy as Íþró carried them towards the cozy home, snow crunching under his feet. Magnus yawned loudly and curled up on his mother’s chest, finally feeling himself fall asleep.

\--

\--

The first thing Sportacus felt when he woke up was the mattress shift underneath him, jolting him from his strangely familiar dream. He sat up, blinking blearily at the small, hyperactive human sitting by his feet.  
“Pabbi! Pabbi! Wake up! IT’S A SNOW DAY!” Bría said all too loudly, shaking her father’s leg.  
Sportacus let a small smile slip onto his face, looking away only when he heard his husband stir.  
“Oh gods, is it morning already?” Robbie mumbled groggily.  
Sportacus glanced at the clock. “Technically, yes. It’s a bit past 7.”  
Robbie grumbled and pulled his pillow over his head. “You are all insane. I’ve created a family of insane people.” Muttered Robbie as he tried to block out the excited chitters of his daughter.  
Bría looked expectantly at her father. “So? Can we go outside to play?”  
Sportacus thought a moment, then nodded. “Yes, but only if you eat some breakfast! You’ll need plenty of energy for today!”  
Bría leapt up from the bed and ran towards the kitchen, slamming the door behind her as she went.

“Is the sugar tornado gone already?” Robbie mumbled with a single laugh.  
Sportacus laughed and rolled over towards Robbie, wrapping his arms around the man. Robbie sighed contentedly and snuggled closer.  
“Are you going to join us?” asked Sportacus.  
“Sportacus, how long have we been married?” asked Robbie.  
“Seven years?”  
“Then you should know my answer by now.”  
Sportacus gave his husband a quick squeeze before letting go. “Would you change your mind, possibly?”  
Robbie peeked out from under his pillow and looked devilishly at his husband. “Maybe. You’ll have to make me.” He said with a mischievous grin.  
Sportacus shrugged. “Alright then!” he said, then scooped up his husband into his arms.  
Robbie gasped as the sudden loss of heat, his arms and legs flailing about. “This isn’t what I meant, Sportaclod!”  
Sportacus snuggled Robbie’s neck and laid kisses against it, trailing up to his jawbone. “Better?” he asked.  
Robbie hummed and his smile returned. “A bit. I’m still cold.”  
Sportacus scooped up Robbie’s robe and draped it over the lanky man. “So you’ll join us outside?”  
Robbie grumbled and nodded. “It’s your fault if I lose my fingers, though.”  
Sportacus rolled his eyes and shook his head. His husband could be so dramatic at times.

He let Robbie down so the man could change into his winter clothes. Sportacus pulled out his scarf and draped it around his neck. He sat on his bed and looked out the window, admiring the beautiful winter scene. His focus changed to the window’s glass itself, and he admired the gorgeous designs and lacy etchings the frost made on the glass.  
Something stirred. His smile faded slightly.  
“ _Could we make another igloo next year? If it snows again?_ ”  
“ _Of course we can, Maggi. We can make one every year if you’d like._ ”  
Sportacus’s smile vanished, and his eyes drifted down to his worn scarf.  
That had been the only igloo they’d gotten a chance to make together.  
He felt his heart grow heavy, and he nuzzled his face into the musty, faded scarf. He sighed and closed his eyes, focusing only on the texture of the knitted wool against his face, the loving handiwork of his mother.  
He only opened his eyes once he felt the bed shift again.  
“Hey, are you okay?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus looked back at his scarf, then back to Robbie. He nodded, and gave a weak smile.  
“I’m fine.” He said quietly.  
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”  
Sportacus glanced down, then nodded again. “I’m sure.”  
Robbie, unconvinced, only shrugged. “Okay, well if you want to talk, just ask.” He said, standing up. Holding out a hand, he said warmly, “Come on, I bet Bría and Runar are getting antsy waiting for us.”  
Sportacus took Robbie’s hand and the two walked out into the living room, where there two children were waiting.

After a quick breakfast, the family were out in the snow, enjoying winter’s gifts to their hearts’ content. Robbie helped Runar make a snow elf while Bría chased after Sportacus, lobbing snowballs in his direction.  
A while later, the four laid on the snow, making snow angels and panting happily from their games.  
“Alright, what do you guys want to do next?” Sportacus asked cheerily.  
Bría sat up, and crawled towards her father. “Can we make an igloo?” she asked.  
Sportacus’s smile fell slightly. The words hit him like a brick. It took him a minute before he finally responded, giving a sad smile.  
“Of course we can, Bría. And if you’d like, we’ll make one every year.” He said.  
Bría grinned. “Sounds like fun! I’ll find a good spot!”

Sportacus sat up and watched his son and daughter race around the yard, looking for the perfect spot to build an igloo. The fuzzy memories filled his head again, and whatever sadness Sportacus felt for the lost possibilities soon faded from the prospect of these new experiences with his family. Standing up, Sportacus flipped over to the kids, ready to show them the perfect spell to form firm, sturdy snow blocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently can't write familial fluff without including sappiness and some soft angst. Thus is the life of this fanfiction writer XD
> 
> And apparently when I don't have the time or energy or inspiration to write for my more ambitious fics, I write for Picture book. Hope you guys enjoyed this entry! Nothing better than a snow story in July XD
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	12. A Long Awaited Reunion Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a stranger arrives in LazyTown, the lives of Robbie, Sportacus, and the kids are thrown for a loop.

The sun shone bright and warmly in the summer skies as Bría skipped past her front lawn, a jump rope wrapped tightly around one hand. Her worn, froggy boots slapped against the pavement as she hopped onto the sidewalk. She grinned widely, showing off the gap in her teeth. Late summer days were her absolute favorite, as she could feel the Earth enjoying its last few weeks of revelry before it prepared itself for a winter’s sleep. The air was still warm and soothing, and all the animals buzzed and flittered about, singing their happy tunes and lifting Bría’s heart. She made a mental note to return to her favorite creek later that day, to hopefully catch another salamander with those funny purple spots.  
Down the road she skipped, her bouncy black curls bobbing with her stride, as she made a trail towards the Lazy park. She waved cheerily to the people she passed by: Ms. Busybody lounging in her favorite lawn chair, Mayor Meanswell walking towards town hall, and Stingy driving his convertible down the street. She raced past the retaining wall and towards the first patch of grass she saw, savoring the feeling of soft grass under her boots. Uncoiling her jump rope, she swung it behind her, taking her first leap as the jump rope slapped the field. Over and over she hopped, twisting the rope ever so often. She giggled and grinned. These were the lazy days she hoped would last forever.  
As she continued to jump and skip, her eyes drifted towards the sky. She gazed at the clouds, guessing the shapes of the fluffy puffs of water. One looked kind of like a saxophone. Another looked like a dog. Yet another looked like a frog. And that one looked like…  
…an air balloon?  
Bría’s skipping slowed to a halt. She squinted at the shape, scrutinizing it thoroughly. No, this was not a cloud. Cloud’s were generally not so…brown. And yellow. And they didn’t float that close to the ground. No, that air balloon was not a cloud.  
“An air balloon!” she exclaimed, her mouth dropping open at the sight. She gazed upon the dirigible with glee. She soon noticed how warn the transport was, with patches covering tears and holes in its balloon, and the basket looking distressed and frayed. It was anchored to the ground with multiple sacks of sand, floating a few feet above the park.  
She walked towards the balloon, examining it closer while questioning who potentially owned such a flying machine. It could potentially belong to the Mayor, she thought, mostly because he liked to fly and the balloon was yellow. Then again, since it was yellow, it could belong to Stingy. Bría knew well enough that Stingy was rich enough to own his own air balloon. Then again, both men would’ve kept their flying devices stored safely away, not just tethered out in the open for anyone to leap inside.  
  
So who’s was it?

As Bría continued to run down the list of people she knew in LazyTown, she almost missed the crunching of gravel and the rustling of leaves nearby. She spun around on her heel, her eyes widening in alarm, an excuse already bubbling inside her mind for how she was just looking at the balloon, and wasn’t trying to steal or harm it in anyway.  
Those excuses soon became needless, as the figure emerged from around the corner.  
There was something distinctly familiar about this man. He stood tall, though that was more from his posture than his actual height, and seemed incredibly fit. He wore a mustard yellow ensemble with a tanned chest plate, with matching mustard yellow pants and brown boots. Emblazoned upon his chest was the number “9”. Tied around his neck was a scarf that hung close to his back, yellow with black and white striping. On his head, he wore a long cap that had something small and shiny dangling from its tip.   
Her eyes trailed up, and soon she was looking at a pair of sky blue eyes, framed by thin age lines and a weariness that Bría could hardly fathom at her young age. The only reaction she could muster was a worry and concern for the older man.  
Despite whatever his posture and his apparent strength suggested, he seemed run down and exhausted.  
Nevertheless, as soon as he made eye contact with the little girl, a small half grin crossed his face, twitching his long and, to Bría, eerily familiar mustache upwards.  
“Hey, I see you found my airship!” he commented.  
Bría immediately clammed up and began to back away, inching away from the balloon’s basket.  
The stranger’s smile vanished and he bent down to Bría’s level.   
“Don’t be shy! It’s okay, I promise I don’t bite.” He said with a weary chuckle.  
Bría stopped and looked at the man, her eyes looking at him curiously. Cautiously, she pointed at the basket, and asked quietly, “You fly in that?”  
The stranger’s smile returned and he nodded. “Yes, I do! All over the world, as a matter of fact.”  
“Why?” asked Bría.  
“It’s part of my job. I go around the world and help people!” the stranger responded.  
Bría raised an eyebrow. “Like a hero?”  
He nodded. “You could say so!”  
Bría looked down at her feet, shuffling them around. Something about this stranger was making her feel off, but she wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t dangerous, that she knew. And even though she was breaking the long-held rule about not talking to strangers, she didn’t feel weird for that reason. But there was something different about this mustard man. She just wasn’t sure why.  
“I-Is there some…someone who needs help?” she asked finally.  
A sad look crossed the man’s face as he gave a quiet chuckle. “No, not necessarily. At least, not someone who lives in this town I think.”  
Bría looked very confused.  
“To be honest, I’m looking for someone.” He admitted.  
“Who?” asked Bría.  
The man sucked in a breath and exhaled tiredly. “My son. I…I haven’t seen him in a very long time and I miss him.”  
Bría cocked her head to the side. “Why?”  
The man shook his head. “He, well, he ran away from home.”  
“Why?”  
The man sighed. “Well, he felt sad and alone. It’s more complicated than that, but that’s a very long story, and a hard one to explain.”  
Bría only looked more confused. “B-But, why he feel alone, if you there?”  
A flash of pain crossed the stranger’s face, and he averted his eyes, closing them slowly as he gathered himself, trying not to let himself break in front of this tiny stranger. “Because…because I wasn’t there. Not as much as I should’ve been.” He looked at Bría once more. “That’s why I want to find him. I want to find him and tell him…that I’m sorry.” He said, his voice growing shaky.

Bría’s confusion gave way to a sympathetic look as she noticed the man’s eyes water. Frowning, she walked up and gave the man a gentle hug. The stranger at first froze at this sudden contact, but eventually returned the hug.  
“Don’t be sad. You’ll find him.” Reassured Bría.  
The stranger sighed and gave a sad chuckle. “I only hope you’re right. I’ve been looking for decades with not a trace of him. This is my last shot.”  
Bría stepped back and placed her fists on her hips. “You can’t give up now then! Like Stepphie says, there’s always a way!” she said triumphantly.  
The stranger chuckled. “You know, you’re like my son in a way. He was very optimistic like you.”  
Bría looked determinedly at the stranger. “So we go! We’ll find your son!” she said with a smile.  
The stranger looked taken aback. “Oh, you don’t have to do that! Really, I’ll be okay.”  
Bría pouted. “But I want to help! It’s always eas…easier if more help!” she said with a nod.  
The stranger stroked his mustache as he considered her offer. He finally nodded with a smile. “You’re right. Alright, you can help me.” He said, leaping to his feet. He pointed towards the main road. “Let’s start this way.”

As they began to walk, Bría asked, “What does he look like?”  
“Look for blonde hair and some…distinct ears.” Noted the stranger, as the two broke into a jog.

\--

The stranger and Bría walked around the town for over an hour, asking around for the man’s son, with no success. Bría thought she might have a lead after she suggested Ziggy, though the stranger quickly shot down that idea. As they searched, Bría noted how the stranger’s energy drooped with every failure, his walk slowing as they went.  
Finally, getting close to the two-hour mark, the man stopped and shook his head.  
“What’s wrong?” asked Bría.  
The man sighed, his eyes closed. “I…I don’t think he’s here.”  
“You sure?”  
The stranger slowly nodded. “This town isn’t very big, and we’ve ran its length at least four times already. If he was here, we would’ve seen him.” He said softly.  
Bría looked sadly at the man. She wrapped herself around the man’s leg, giving him a hug. “I’m sorry, mister.” She said.  
The stranger chuckled and patted her head, giving her a sad smile. “It’s okay, it was worth a try.”  
Bría paused, still hugging the stranger, the gears in her head turning. She looked back up at the man. “There’s one person we haven’t asked yet.” She finally said.  
The stranger raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Who’s that?”  
Bría grinned. “My papa! He’s the smartest man in all of LazyTown!”  
The stranger smirked. “Well why didn’t you suggest him at the start? We could’ve saved some search time!” he said with a laugh.  
Bría tugged the stranger towards the direction of her home, with the stranger following along carefully.

Within a few minutes, the two arrived at Bría’s home. She threw her boots off, gesturing for the stranger to do the same.  
“Papa gets really mad when I bring mud into the house.” She explained.  
The stranger laughed. “Just say that you’re bringing the mud for a visit, and it’s rude to turn away guests.” He suggested.  
Bría grinned and laughed as well as she pushed the door open.  
“I’m home!” Bría announced.  
Robbie, standing in the kitchen with plates of food, didn’t turn to address his daughter. “Hey sweetheart, you ready for lunch? I made peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches since your dad isn’t home yet.”  
The stranger wrinkled his nose at the sugary meal.  
Bría, noticing the stranger’s disgust, quietly reassured him, “We have sportscandy too, if you want that instead!”  
The stranger froze, his eyes widening.  
“What did you just – “  
“Hey papa, can you make more lunch?” Bría asked loudly.  
Robbie paused. “Why exactly?”  
“I brought a friend over!” she explained.  
Robbie chuckled and shook his head, turning towards her as he said, “Alright, but if it’s that friend of yours with the big appetite, you’re the one making her third or fourth lun – “

As soon as Robbie’s eyes met the stranger’s, his face went white as a sheet.

“I…” Robbie barely managed to say.  
The stranger looked at him worriedly. “Sir, are you…?”  
Robbie could feel his heart thumping in his ears, a cold sweat breaking over his body.  
He knew who this stranger had to be. Who else _could_ it be? The resemblance was uncanny, and to have him just suddenly appear out of nowhere, much less _in his house_?  
“Papa, are you having a menal brickdown?” asked Bría, fumbling her words.  
Robbie, being brought back to reality, forced a smile and sucked down a hard breath.  
“E-Excuse me for a minute, sir. I believe I left the stove on.” He said, pointing towards the hallway.  
The stranger raised an eyebrow as he looked at the hallway. “But your stove is over – “  
“Be back!” Robbie said quickly, before ducking away and slamming the bathroom door behind him.  
“Umm…” the stranger began to say.  
Bría cringed. “Oh no, I didn’t expect…”  
“I gawt it.” Said Runar, sitting up from his spot on the couch. He toddled over to a basket full of blankets, where he fished out a purple one with cow designs embroidered on it. He gave a small nod to the stranger as he walked to the kitchen, standing on his tippy toes to grab a mug off the counter. He filled it with soda, and carried the items over towards the bathroom, with Bría and the stranger watching. He gave a quick knock against the door, the door opening only slightly.  
“Hewre.” Said Runar, handing his father the blanket and mug.  
A second later, a shaking hand reached out and gently took the blanket and mug.  
“Awr you going to be okay?” asked Runar.  
A quiet voice reassured him he was fine, just needed a moment to stop freaking out.  
Runar nodded. “Okie-dokie. Just wet me know if you need anything.” Said Runar, before he slowly closed the door.  
He then toddled back to his spot, sitting himself down to play with his toys once more.  
The stranger blinked, struggling to take in what he’d just witnessed.  
“Papa sometimes gets panicky over things. I didn’t expect him to get _that_ panicky though.” Admitted Bría.  
“Is…is this a normal thing for you two?” he asked, still looking in shock at the nonchalant toddler sitting on the couch.  
Bría nodded. “We’ve got a cys-them now, so it’s not too bad.”  
The stranger slowly nodded. “Well, perhaps it’d be better if I leave for now then.”  
Bría’s eyes widened. “No, don’t go! W-We still haven’t found your son yet!”  
The stranger smiled. “I’m not leaving leaving, don’t worry about that. I just mean maybe I’ll come back later? Once your father is okay and all.”

Bría nodded. “Maybe you could join us for dinner!” she suggested happily.  
The stranger eyed the door for a moment, before he finally said, “As long as your papa is okay with it. Wouldn’t want him to panic again.”  
Bría giggled.   
The stranger ruffled her hair. “I’ll see you later then? You better go take care of your dad.”  
Bría looked up, and finally said, “Wait, what’s your name? If I have to find you, I need to know your name!”  
The stranger smiled proudly and put his fists on his hips. “I am Íþróttaálfurinn! But, since that’s a mouthful, you can just call me Íþró!” he said.  
Bría smiled and laughed. “My name’s Bría! Nice to meet you!”  
Íþró paused. “Bría…” he said quietly. He mulled over the name, wondering for a moment about a strange and long-stretch possibility, before responding, “that’s a very nice name!”

Íþró waved goodbye to his new friend as he ran back out onto the lawn, throwing his boots on as he went. Bría waved to him until he was out of sight, before turning back and walking towards the bathroom door. She gently knocked at the door.  
“He left, Papa.” She said.  
Silence.  
“Did he…you know, leave leave?” Robbie asked finally.  
“No, I asked if he wanted to join us for dinner.” Bría said.  
She heard a sigh, then a bout of nervous laughter.  
“He, uh, didn’t happen to tell you his name, did he?”  
Bría uneasily responded, “He said his name was…Ibuprofen? He said to call him Íþró.”  
More nervous laughter. Bría furrowed her brow with worry.  
“Papa?” she asked cautiously.  
“Oh, this is wonderful. Just wonderful. Just like life to plop something like this on your lap when your flop of a husband is out of town. _Icelandic_ ice could’ve waited, Sportacow. You leave, then in-laws pop out of nowhere after decades of – “  
“Papa, you’re scaring me.” Bría finally said.  
A pause, then the door creaked open.  
Bría slowly walked inside, finding her father sitting on the floor, burying his face in his hands.  
She sat herself down next to him, waiting patiently.  
Finally, Robbie sighed, then said quietly, “I’m sorry for scaring you, Bría.”  
“Papa, why were you so upset?” she asked.  
Robbie shook his head. “I wasn’t upset, I was just…shocked.”  
“Why?”  
Robbie looked at his daughter, his face filled with exhausted adrenaline and nervousness.  
“It’s…It’s a long story.” He said wearily. He sat back, letting his head rest against the bathroom cabinet. Bría sat next to her papa, waiting patiently for him to continue.  
“He said he was looking for his son, Papa.” Bría finally said after Robbie remained quiet for several minutes.  
She could hear him inhale sharply.  
“So he did.” Robbie said quietly.  
Bría looked at him curiously. “Would…Would you know where he is?”  
Robbie nodded. “You know where he is too.”  
Bría looked down in confusion, her brow furrowing. Then, it clicked. And her mouth dropped open in disbelief.  
“Y-You mean…?”  
Robbie nodded once more. “That’s your grandfather, Bría. Grandfather Íþróttaálfurinn.”  


Bría felt her heart lift with excitement and joy. She’d heard so little about her pabbi’s side of the family. To finally meet her grandfather was beyond amazing, even if she hadn’t known it at the time.  
“Papa, we have to tell him! He’ll be so happy!” Bría said, tugging on her papa’s arm.  
Robbie looked at Bría with a sad smile. “I know we do, but…”  
Bría’s excitement faded. She cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong, Papa?”  
Robbie laughed nervously and ran a hand across his head. “It’s complicated, Bría.”  
“I can understand.” Bría asserted.  
Robbie sighed and closed his eyes. “You…Did I ever tell you about your grandpa, Glanni?”  
Bría scrunched her nose and thought for a moment. “He was a bad man, right? A bad guy.”  
Robbie gave her a weak nod. “Yes, he was. And Íþróttaálfurinn was the hero who eventually took him down the first time. Those two were mortal enemies.”  
“But you aren’t grandpa!”  
“I know I’m not, but _he_ may not agree.” Robbie said sadly. “He’ll find out soon enough that my father was Glanni, and…well things might get very uncomfortable.” He said, shifting uncomfortably.  
Bría looked at her papa worriedly. She thought for a moment, before she tapped his shoulder. “Papa, do you love Pabbi?”  
Robbie gave her a look. “Is that a question? Of course, I do.”  
“And does Pabbi love you?”  
Robbie gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m 20% sure he does.”  
“Papa!”  
Robbie nodded and chuckled. “Just kidding, spider monkey. I’m sure he loves me too.”  
Bría smiled. “Then, grandpabbi’s going to love you too! I-If you love Pabbi, then that’s all that matters, right? You make him smile, I know you do. He’ll see that, and he’ll surely like you too!”  
Robbie’s face lit up, and he gave a warm smile to his daughter. “You know, you’re pretty perceptive for your age. Where’d you get that from?”  
Bría grinned. “From the smartest papa and pabbi in the world!”  
Robbie gave her a quick squeeze. “I love you, Bría.”  
Bría hugged her papa back. “Love you too.”

After sitting there for some time, Bría and Robbie stood back up and exited the bathroom. Runar was standing outside the door, another blanket in his arms.  
“Making suhre you two weren’t habing a duble meltdown.” He said quietly.  
Robbie chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair. “Nope, we’re good.”  
Bría looked up at her papa. “So, are we going to have grandpabbi Íþró over for dinner?”  
Runar’s eyes widened. “Wait, _grandpabbi_???” he asked in shock.  
“Oh dear, I’ll explain it to you in a minute.” Robbie said with a headshake. He looked at his daughter. “Yes, but for the time you might not want to call him grandpabbi. What you should do though is send a letter to your pabbi. Make sure he comes home in time for dinner.”  
“Should I tell him Íþró is coming?”  
Robbie cringed. “Just tell him a special guest is coming for the time.”  
“Got it!” said Bría cheerily, as she skipped over to where the stationery was kept.

Robbie sighed and picked up Runar, holding him close to his chest.  
“So, is my little Run-Run going to help me with dinner? Has to be appropriate for an elf.” He asked with a grin.  
Runar’s eyes lit up. “H-He’s an elf? Wike me?”  
Robbie nodded. “Yup, and that means lots of…” he said, feeling the word catch in his throat. “… _sportscandy_.”  
Runar giggled. “We gawt lots in the garden.”  
“Right, get some and bring it to the kitchen.” Robbie said, kissing his son’s cheek before setting him down.  
He watched Runar toddle out to the garden as he finally composed himself fully. As his daughter ran out with the mail tube in hand, Robbie prayed to whatever spirits or gods that existed that this dinner wouldn’t be the most awkward thing in the history of elves and humans.

Part of him knew those prayers were a long shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One million years later, and the awaited reunion is FINALLY being written! Hopefully you guys enjoy this. I may go back and tweak things later, but for the time being I think this is okay. Of course the real reunion is with part two, but hope you enjoy some silly family fluff here for the time.
> 
> Poor Robbie's having a meltdown, and his kids are acting more adult than he is. In other words, a normal day in their household.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	13. A Long Awaited Reunion Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner finally happens, and everything is deliciously awkward for everyone, though mainly Robbie.

As Íþró ran past the lawn and back out into the streets, he couldn’t help but feel something off after his short visit to Bría’s home.  
Nothing bad, mind you, but just something that bothered him.  
He thought over the meeting as he jogged down the road, giving the occasional friendly wave to passersby as he did.  
Little Bría didn’t seem all that surprised or shocked at his mode of transportation. He was used to someone at least gawking at his balloon, if not barraging him with a wheelbarrow of questions. Instead, however, the little girl had simply asked if it was his, and that was it.  
A little odd for a young tyke like her, who he figured didn’t see air balloons like his very often.  
He continued to think over the day.  
Her father definitely acted odd when he’d seen him. Almost nervous, if one were to ask him. And something about the man was vaguely familiar, but Íþró couldn’t quite put his finger on it. That dark black hair, those gray eyes…hadn’t he met someone with a similar set of features?

And that little girl’s name…Bría.  
A cute name, and not a particularly common one for humans.  
It was almost funny, it sounded quite a bit like –

Íþró froze.  
The little girl’s name was Bría, a name commonly used back on his home island.  
The little boy, who he missed the name of, had pointed ears.  
She had called fruits and vegetables _sportscandy_.  
The realization sent a wave of joy yet also frustration through him. He bopped himself upside the noggin, shaking his head in annoyance.  
“ _Íþró, þú hálfviti!_ ” he muttered to himself, giving a small laugh that mixed with a sad joy. He must really be getting old if he missed so many clues. And not just any clues, but _blatantly obvious_ ones.  
He couldn’t even describe how he felt in that moment. He felt joy from the revelation that, finally, he’d found concrete evidence of his son’s presence. He felt grief over the time spent looking, and how he hadn’t found him sooner. He felt anticipation and perplexity, over how he’d breach the subject to Bría and her family. Did they already suspect that he had some relation to their family? And where did his son fit in their little unit?  
Only the papa was present…  
Íþró’s eyes widened.  
…if he were right, that meant that Bría and her brother were…

Tears rolled down Íþró’s cheeks, and he trembled with excitement and overwhelming joy. He laughed quietly, reveling in his incredible luck.  
“Mister, are you okay?” asked Ziggy, who’d stopped on his way home.  
Íþró looked at the teenager, and quickly wiped the tears from his face. He gave him a shaky grin before he responded.  
“Yes, oh yes I’m more than okay. I’m ready to leap the moon right now!” He said with a choked laugh.  
Ziggy raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You’re still crying.”  
“They’re tears of joy, my friend. The best tears.” Íþró said, sniffling slightly. He cleared his throat and stood back up straight, grinning at the teen. “Thank you for your concern.”  
Ziggy smiled. “No problem! Sure you’re okay though?”  
“I’m more than sure. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a dinner to prepare for.” Said Íþró, doing his signature move before darting away.  
Ziggy stared in disbelief, watching as the hero ran and flipped away. Once he finally gathered himself, he tore down the road towards his friends’ houses. He had to tell them what he’d seen.

\--

High above the Northern Sea, Sportacus pedaled his ship away from the frosty islands. His ship was full of ice once more, and he was more than ready to get back to LazyTown.  
He thought happily about Robbie and his children. After checking his watch, he knew that he’d arrive just in time for dinner. He could already see the trio sitting at the table with their sportscandy-filled meal at the ready. He could taste the dinner even then, and it made his mouth water in anticipation.  
A sound, like a pneumatic tube, broke through his thoughts, and a mail tube plopped in his lap.  
“I’ve got mail!” he announced, pulling the brake to stop the airship.  
He pulled out the curled letter and flattened it out before reading.

“ _Pabbi,_

_Papa needs you back in LazyTown right away! We have dinner with a special visitor tonight!_

_I love you so much!_

_-Bría_ ”

Sportacus chuckled, then paused. A special visitor? Robbie hadn’t told him about any special plans for that week.  
“Well, they must be quite the visitor if he wants me home so quickly!” Sportacus concluded with a grin. Releasing the break, Sportacus pedaled at double-speed towards LazyTown, feeling his excitement grow with every mile passed.  
“I can’t wait to meet this visitor! This dinner’s going to be a great time!” he said cheerily, before whistling a happy tune to himself.

\--

“This dinner’s going to be a total disaster.” Muttered Robbie, slumping against the kitchen counter in distress.

Bría looked up from her task of mixing salad dressing once she’d heard her father’s exasperated mutterings. She carefully stepped down the step-stool and skipped over towards her papa.  
“Papa? Are you okay?” she asked.  
“Me? Oh, I’m fine. Just, maybe could you write a politely worded letter for your grandpa? Just tell him our house exploded and we’re too busy picking up the pieces to have dinner, and he should come back in a few decades or so.” Robbie said with a nervous laugh.  
Bría gasped. “Papa, that’s lying!”  
“No, it’s not. It’s a selective truth, if you grab me some dynamite.”  
“Papa!” Bría said with a frown, putting her hands on her hip.  
“Bría, please, just humor me for a moment.” Robbie said, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.  
Bría gently hugged her papa. “You look nervous.”  
“I am nervous, sweetheart.” Robbie sighed.  
“But it’ll be okay! Gran – Íþró will like you once he finds out that pabbi loves you, and you love him back!”  
“I wish it were that simple, Bría.” Robbie said, looking at his daughter. “That’s how we _hope_ it’ll turn out, but adults are…weird. They aren’t always so forgiving, even of things that’re long in the past.”  
“That’s dumb.” Bría noted bluntly, pursing her lips.  
Robbie chuckled. “It is, but you can’t do anything about that.”  
Bría nodded. “Well…we can hope for the best! We can do that at least.”  
Robbie sighed and rolled his eyes. “Now you’re sounding like your dad. You are right though. Better stay positive.” He said, ruffling his daughter’s hair.  
Bría chuckled and stuck out her tongue.

The doorbell rang.

Bría skipped away, running straight towards the door.  
“I got it!” she announced happily.  
Robbie laughed to himself as he watched his daughter run.  
“Stay positive, indeed.” He said to himself. He then sighed and shook his head, turning back to the cooking. “Positive that this is going to be an… _interesting_ dinner.”  
Bría threw the door open and grinned cheerily.  
“Hi Gr – er, I mean, Íþró!” she said happily.  
Íþró smiled. “Good evening, Bría! Boy, it smells fantastic in here! You and your papa must’ve been cooking up a storm, hmm?”  
Bría nodded. “And Runar helped too! He got all the sportscandy!”  
Íþró paused. There goes that word again.  
“Well, I bet that that was very helpful!” He finally responded.

Bría led Íþró towards the dining table, where Runar was finishing up with the table settings. The clean, fancy tablecloth had been thrown over the well-loved and worn dining table, mostly to cover up the crayon smudges and other stains the furniture accumulated over many years and two children. The nice, silver utensils sat restaurant style across from china plates, with a wine glass at three of the spots. Runar was currently busying himself with folding the napkins into lotus folds, topping each napkin with a tiny, origami crane.  
“Paw-Paw, I think da gwitter paper was a bit much.” Runar noted, looking over the table decorations.  
Robbie looked up from his cooking. “Well maybe, but what part of life _isn’t_ improved by glitter?” he asked with a cheeky grin.  
“Dis dinner table, Paw-Paw. Dat’s one.” Runar retorted flatly.  
Robbie’s smile faded. “Aren’t you just a know-it-all tonight?” he remarked.  
“We gawtta make dis table perfect!” Runar said, rearranging the cranes. “Dis is a speciawh dinner! Our first with gran – “  
He stopped as soon as he noticed Íþró watching him, his eyes wide as the dinner plates.  
Immediately, Runar hopped off the chair he was standing on and toddled over to the elder elf. He stuck out a hand.  
“Pweasure to meet you.” Runar said.  
Íþró snapped out of his astonished daze and took the young boy’s hand.  
“Umm, good to meet you too! What’s your name?”  
“Runar. Or you can cawl me Run-Run like Paw-Paw.” The toddler said.  
“Well,” Íþró said, bending down to the child’s level. “it’s quite a pleasure to meet you, Runar. You did a spectacular job with the table settings.”  
Runar couldn’t stop a pleased smile from slipping past him. “T-Thank you!”  


Íþró ruffled the boy’s hair before standing up straight and strolling over to the kitchen, towards the nervous father chopping vegetables.  
“And you must be their father! Hope you’re finally feeling better. You’re okay now, right?” asked Íþró happily.  
Robbie stood ramrod straight, and gave a nervous laugh.  
“Y-Yup! Just fine now. I’m Robbie Rotten. Good to meet you, umm…” Robbie said, holding out a shaking hand.  
“Íþróttaálfurinn, but just call me Íþró! It’s much easier to say.” The elf said with a booming laugh as he took the villain’s hand and gave it a firm shake.  
A surprised squeak escaped Robbie as the hero shook his hand. For a moment, the villain thought his hand would be crushed to jelly by the elf’s grip. At least now he knows where Sportacus got his strength from.  
Once Íþró released the death grip on his hand, Robbie took it back and rubbed it gently.  
“So, anything I can do to help? Need any vegetables chopped up? Or dishes to be seasoned?” asked Íþró.  
“N-No, I think we’re actually about ready.” Robbie said, checking his wrist watch. The big hand creeped past the 12, while the little hand stayed fixed at 6. Sportacus was late.  
Íþró crossed back towards the dining room and prepared to sit at one spot, before he was halted by the two children.  
“That’s pabbi’s seat!” Bría stated.  
“You sit here!” Runar noted, pointing to a seat marked with a yellow crane.  
“Ahhhh, now I see!” Íþró said, finally noticing the color coordination. There was a yellow crane, a purple one, a green one, an orange one, and a blue one. He noticed how he was sat right next to the blue one. The anticipation built within him.  
As the trio settled into their spots, Robbie walked from the kitchen carrying a big, steaming plate of something that smelled absolutely delicious.  
“Hope you don’t mind, but we’re just eating something pretty simple tonight. Nothing too fancy, but hopefully you’ll enjoy it.” Robbie said with a weak smile.  
Íþró sniffed the air, and immediately a gigantic smile broke onto his face.  
“ _Fiskur!_ Er, I mean, fish! You made baked fish?” He asked excitedly.  
Robbie smirked. “Yup, something told me you were a fish person.”  
Íþró raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? What told you that?”   
Robbie’s smile vanished. “Well, uh, just my um…intuition?” he suggested.  
Íþró paused, then slowly nodded as Robbie served him a larger piece. “Guess I do seem like a _fishy_ guy.” He said with a laugh.  
Robbie responded with his own laughter, albeit much more nervously.

After the meal had been served and the drinks were poured, the four started tucking into their dinners with relish. Íþró made a few pleased sounds as he chewed on a bite full of fish, hiding a smirk as he quickly recognized the combination of seasonings used for the meal. Bríana’s old recipe; it was good to see that her cooking was passed on and used even today.  
As he ate, Íþró would occasionally look Robbie dead in the eyes, as if waiting for the man to say something or ask questions.  
However, Robbie remained quiet, occupying himself with either his meal or with attending to the two children, whose table manners could still use some work.  
“Elbows off the table, Runar. And Bría, sweetie, remember to eat with your mouth closed.” Robbie reminded them patiently.  
“But I’m just eating like the cows eat!” Bría protested.  
“And are YOU a cow?” Robbie asked.  
Bría averted her eyes away and sighed.  
“…No…”  
“Then we eat like a polite _human_. Especially when we have guests.” Robbie noted, carefully slicing another bite from his piece of fish.  
Bría pouted and poked at her asparagus with her fork.  
Íþró smiled warmly.  
“What’s wrong, _litla_? Don’t you like your…sportscandy?” He asked.  
Bría looked up, her eyes widening momentarily before she shrugged.  
“No, I do. Just not this one. It’s yucky.” She commented.  
Íþró laughed.  
“You know, my son was just like you when he was your age. He hated asparagus too. Said the taste was sour.”  
“Exactly! That’s why it’s yucky!” Bría said, sticking out her tongue.  
“And he said the same thing back then!” Íþró said.  
Robbie held back a chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand. His husband, Mr. All Sportscandy is his favorite, was a fickle eater as a kid? Oh, he most definitely had to give Sportacus a hard time for this when he returned home.  
His laughter died, however, as soon as Íþró’s attention returned to him. Even though his look wasn’t malicious or angered (it could even be considered…curious?), it still intimidated Robbie and made him, instinctually, hyper-fixate on his meal in response.

The meal was quiet once more, at least conversationally. Aside from the ambient sounds of utensils clinking against china plates, the barely audible sound of chewing and crunching on asparagus stalks, and the clacking of glasses tapping against the table top, there was little in the way of noise. Robbie partly regretted not putting on a record, if only to cut through some of the tension.  
Finally, Íþró cleared his throat, setting down his fork.  
“So, Mr. Rotten, I believe we still don’t know much about each other. So, tell me, what do you do for a living?” He asked.  
Robbie froze, slowly setting down his knife. Right, just a question about his job. Nothing too prodding.   
“Umm, well, I’m actually a sole proprietor of a toy shop here in town. Did you see it on your walk?”  
Íþró grinned. “Yes, I did! Impossible to miss it, really. You truly have some amazing toys in your shop’s window. Did you make them yourself, or order them in?”  
Robbie let a proud smile slip past him.  
“They’re all of my own design. I like to keep things fresh and unique in my store.”  
Íþró smiled. “Well, you’ve done a remarkable job at that, from what I’ve seen. I’ve never seen such exquisite toys in all my life. And I’ve travelled around the globe!”  
Robbie felt a warmth in his heart from the compliment.  
“T-Thank you!” he responded. He took another bite of asparagus. “So, um, what exactly do you _do_ for your job?”  
Íþró nodded. “Ah, yes. Well, some time ago, I was hired as a sort of worldwide emergency responder. I’d travel from country to country and help those who needed me. I retired a few years ago though. The coun – er, my bosses, said I’m getting a little up there in age.”  
He smirked. “Personally, I feel like I had another decade in me, but they thought otherwise. Probably for the better.”  
“And now?” Bría asked.  
“Just a traveler.” Íþró said. “I visit places I used to help out, or explore lands I never got a chance to go to.”  
His smile faded. “But mostly, I’ve been looking for my son, Magnús. He ran away from home when he was around twelve years old and I haven’t seen him since. This town, LazyTown, is my last hope of finding him. I’ve searched across the globe and haven’t seen a peek of him.”  
Robbie’s heart grew heavy.  
“I’m…very sorry to hear that. Any luck so far?” He asked.  
A spark appeared in Íþró’s eye.  
“Well, no. But I feel like I have a very strong lead.” He said, his lip curling into a knowing smile.

Robbie froze. He could feel the tone that dripped off the last statement. Íþró must’ve at least already figured out that Bría and Runar, and thus Robbie, are related to Sportacus in some way. Heck, he might’ve even already figured out he was a _grandparent_ to both kids, and maybe that he and Sportacus were together. But perhaps he still didn’t know about Robbie’s lineage?  
That question, unfortunately for Robbie, was answered with Íþró’s next question.  
“You know, that question about my job reminded me of something I wanted to ask you, Mr. Rotten. You really remind me a lot of someone I ran into during my time as a travelling hero.”  
Robbie nearly choked on his bite of fish. He gagged, coughing harshly, as he reached for his glass of water. He sucked down a gulp and took deep breaths, settling himself before he gave a strained smile.  
“Oh really? Do I?” he asked, his voice a higher pitch than usual.  
Íþró slowly nodded.  
“In a way, yes. It was after I visited this small little town…it’s been some time so I don’t really remember the name, but I do remember this strange man who was the reason I was called in to help.”  
“Wat was wong?” asked Runar innocently.  
“Runar.” Robbie hushed through clenched teeth.  
“Well, I’d heard that the town’s mayor had been ousted by a strange man in a black catsuit, and that he’d managed to finagle the town’s boys into manual labor jobs in his factory. He was also working on poisoning the town’s food supply so they’d only buy his own food!”  
Robbie’s face paled and he, as casually as he could, busied himself with taking long sips from his water, his fingers tapping against the table top.  
“But why would someone like that remind you of Papa? Papa’s a nice man!” Bría asked, confused.  
“Oh, I’m very sure your papa’s a nice man.” Íþró said reassuringly. “I meant more on an appearance level. Their features were quite uncannily similar and I just wanted to know for curiosity’s sake.”  
The elven man’s eyes shot back over to Robbie.  
Robbie nearly sucked his water down the wrong windpipe, gulping down a harsh gulp as he set the glass back down.  
“So Mr. Rotten, just out of curiosity, does the name _Glanni Glæpur_ ring a bell?” Íþró asked quietly.  
All the color drained out of Robbie’s face as he, in that moment, wanted nothing more than to melt into a goopy puddle on his chair, never to resume a solid form. Or maybe he wanted to sprout wings and fly off to make a new life in Greenland. Assume a new name. _Anything_ to avoid having to answer Íþró’s question.  
He knew, definitely, that confirming Íþró’s theory could only lead to disastrous consequences, as if stating that you’re the offspring of his former nemesis and, oh yeah, that you’ve married his long-lost son and had children without telling him.  
He could lie, but something told Robbie that the hard look the elf was giving him that his own expression was telling Íþró more than words could ever muster.  
Thus, Robbie only responded with a fearful squeak, and through sinking back against his chair.  
Íþró, seemingly getting all the answers he was looking for, simply nodded and sat back, stroking his mustache thoughtfully.  
“How interesting. If I may make a guess, then you must be…?” He asked softly.  
Robbie sank back further.  
“I see. Now isn’t this quite fascinating.” Íþró noted with an eerily calm voice.  


Bría, sensing the growing tension, leaned over towards her father.  
“Papa, maybe we should serve dessert now?” she suggested.  
Robbie sat up straight, forcing a strained smile.  
“Dessert?? Now what a, uh, c-capital idea! I’ll go get it!” He said, nearly leaping out of his seat, resulting in him stumbling forward and faceplanting into the carpet.  
Íþró raised an eyebrow.  
“Dessert? Already? We just finished dinner.”  
“Well in this household, especially when my lovely, _lovely_ , and oh so very _absent_ husband isn’t here, we eat dessert as soon as dinner is done! Oh, I do _love_ when my beloved husband isn’t _here_ when we have a _guest_ and his husband needs _assistance_!” Robbie remarked nervously, stifling an anxious giggle. He was fairly certain that Íþró could see the thick droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead, if the look on the elf’s face said anything.  
“Uh, well then, would you like some assistance with the dessert Mr. Rotten?” asked Íþró.  
“Me?? Oh no! You’re our esteemed _guest_ , Mr. Íþróttaálfurinn. You just sit there, nice and tight and _away from the knives_ , and I’ll cut you a piece of sugar-free apple pie right away!” Robbie said with a shaky smile.  
Íþró furrowed his brow and gave Robbie a confused look.  
“Mr. Rotten, I insist. It looks like you’re about to pass out. Perhaps _I_ should cut the pies and _you_ should sit down.” He said, standing up slowly.  
Robbie shook his head quickly which, he wouldn’t admit this, did make him feel a little dizzy.  
“I-I’m fine! Please, keep sitting! It’d be rude of me to let our guest cut the pies himself! Ha ha, that’d be silly! Besides, you could _cut_ yourself, and that’d be bad!” Robbie said, trembling as he moved the knife closer to the pie.  
Íþró moved towards the kitchen.  
“I think you’re confusing who’s more at risk for cutting themselves, Mr. Rotten. Now, maybe you should sit down, and I’ll handle the desserts…”  
Robbie took a large step back, looking with a nervous smile as he held the carving knife flat against his chest.  
Íþró stepped back, looking confusedly at the shaking man.  
“Mr. Rotten, is everything okay? You’re sweating bullets.”  


Robbie gulped down a breath.  
“Well, wouldn’t _you_ get a bit nervous mentioning a name like Glanni’s? Especially knowing you two’s history and, um, maybe you should step away from the knife block?”  
Íþró, looking to his left, stepped away and held his hands out.  
“Mr. Rotten, I don’t know what’s gotten you nervous, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”  
Bría and Runar gave each other a look, nodding together as they hopped off their chairs and ran over to their scared papa. They both gently gave him a hug each.  
“Papa, please, I think you should believe Íþró. Take deep breaths.” Bría said quietly.  
Robbie shut his eyes and shook his head defiantly.  
“Paw-Paw, you’re fweaking out again.” Runar noted.  
“W-Well, wouldn’t you two be freaking out if you were me?!” Robbie said, stressed. He gestured to Íþró. “If you had to look your husband’s father in the eyes and say yes, I, the son of a man who attempted to murder him with poison so many years ago, is now married to his son who was supposed to show up nearly an hour ago??”  
Íþró shook his head slowly.  
“Mr. Rotten, please, this isn’t – “  
“He was supposed to be here when I had to break _that_ little news about who the other set of in-laws are, or should I say _were_ , but he apparently decided to run late! Leaving me to stew in my own sweat and worry about what _he_ was going to say or do!” Robbie continued with a shaking voice, pointing at Íþró, his legs noticeably trembling at this point.  
Íþró’s gaze turned sad.  
“Mr. Rotten, did you really think I was going to do something untoward just because of your father?” He asked quietly.  
Robbie breathed heavily, looking at the elf with watery eyes.  
“Would I be wrong to think that way?” He asked.  
Íþró’s lips drew into a thin line.  
“No, not necessarily. It would make sense, but,” He said, taking a tentative step forward. “I’m not angry, and I certainly wouldn’t hurt you Mr. Rotten.”  
“Why not though?” asked Robbie.  
Íþró frowned.  
“Because…even though it’s been years since I’ve seen my son, I trust him to choose someone who wouldn’t hurt him as his partner. I may not approve of the actions of your father, but something tells me you aren’t your father.” A smile returned to his face. “If how my grandchildren turned out tells me anything.”  
Bría and Runar’s faces lit up, both looking excitedly at Robbie.   
Robbie, after giving a wary look to the elven man, gave a slow nod to his children. He still watched Íþró carefully.  
Bría and Runar, with a short cheer, left their father’s side to run towards Íþró, who crouched down with his arms stretched wide. He took both children and hugged them tight, a tear rolling down his cheek.  
“We’re so happy to finawy meet you, Gran-Paw.” Runar noted, his voice muffled by Íþró’s sleeve.  
“As am I, Runar. I just wish I’d found you both sooner.” Íþró said sadly.  
“But now you found us! And we have a grandpa!” Bría said cheerily.  
Íþró chuckled. “Now that’s something I’ll have to get used to hearing. Don’t really think of myself as a grandpa _quite_ yet!”  
Both children laughed as Íþró looked back up at Robbie, who still sat with his back against the wall, though he seemed less nervous now. With a warm smile, the elven hero lifted an arm away from the group hug, ushering Robbie towards him.  
Robbie looked uneasily at the elf.  
“You can put down the knife, Robbie. Trust me, it’s okay.” Íþró said reassuringly.  
“A-Are you sure?”  
Íþró gave him a look.  
“This is a family group hug, which means sons-in-law are included. Get yourself over here.” He said with a cheeky smile.  
Robbie, nervously, inched forward. Once he was within hand’s reach, however, he let out a strangled yelp as he was yanked into the group hug, feeling himself get slightly crushed by Íþró’s hug.  
“Now all we’re missing is Pabbi!” Bría remarked.  
“Yeah, where is Pabbi?” asked Runar.  
“I’m certain he’ll be here soon, children…” Robbie said, taking deep breaths as he finally began to calm down.

“I’m home!” called Sportacus, swinging the door open wide.  
The hero stopped in his tracks as he finally noticed the group hug, counting four heads amongst the group, with said extra head decked in a yellow, long-tailed cap.  
His heart stopped, and his eyes grew wide, a look of surprise and shock growing on his face. His mouth gaped a little open, his grip on the doorknob loosening.  
As soon as Sportacus announced his arrival, Íþró’s body stiffened, his smile vanishing. Slowly, he released the three from the group hug, stepping away and turning his attention towards the door. Once he finally could see his son, _his son_ , standing there, _an adult_ , his eyes began to glisten. He could feel his heart beat louder and his mouth slack in utter surprise.  
Sportacus’s reaction mirrored his father as he stood frozen in place, blinking his eyes rapidly to ensure he wasn’t seeing things.  
Robbie backed himself and the children into the kitchen, giving the two elves some room.  
“Maggi…” Íþró said in a near whisper, slowly stepping towards his son, his hands slightly extended past his sides.  
Sportacus, his face looking a little uneasy, gave his father a weak smile.  
“Hi, Pabbi…” he responded.  
Íþró stopped in his tracks, taking the time to look over his son. He glanced at the few locks of hair that stuck out from his cap. Golden blonde, just like he remembered. A hand lifted to cover his mouth, and for a moment, he could see the image of his little boy standing in front of him. A little boy in an oversized tunic, messy blonde hair, and wide blue eyes. _His_ little boy. The one he lost so long ago. With a blink, the boy was gone, and the grown man in front of him stood in his place. The tears continued to cascade down his cheeks.  
“ _Litla_ …” Íþró whispered.  
Sportacus broke, his expression growing strained.  
“Pabbi, I’m so, _so_ sorry. I’m so sorry I ran away, I’m sorry I stole an airship, and I’m sorry I never told you I’m okay and that I was living here in Lazy – “He began to ramble, tears building in his eyes.  
His apology was stopped short by Íþró, who had responded to Sportacus’s apology by pulling his son into a close hug, cupping the back of his son’s head to rest it against his shoulder. He squeezed his son close, letting his tears flow freely.  
“Pabbi -!” Sportacus sputtered, failing to immediately return his father’s hug.  
“Maggi, _sonur minn_ , you’re not the one who needs to apologize.” Íþró said shakily. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you enough. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to tell you that everything was okay, and that I loved you and that what those awful people in our village were saying to you was _not true_. I didn’t, and I’m so _so_ sorry Maggi. You didn’t deserve any of that.”  
Sportacus sniffled, and buried his face into his father’s chest, finally returning his pabbi’s hug. He continued to sob and sniff, tears flowing unstoppably down his face.  
“Shh, it’s okay _litla_.” Íþró said quietly. “Oh gods, how I’ve missed you though.”  
Sportacus gave a sad laugh.  
“I-I’ve missed you so much too, Pabbi. I’ve wanted to return home, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react. And then I got married, and I’ve been raising my kids…”  
“Ah yes, little Bría and Runar.” Íþró noted. He let Sportacus go enough to look him in the eyes. “You have two beautiful children, Maggi.”  
Sportacus smiled and wiped away his tears.  
“I know, I’m very lucky to have them.”  
Bría and Runar grinned at the comment.  
“And your husband is truly something.” Íþró remarked with a laugh.  
Robbie looked away, his cheeks turning pink from a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment.  
Sportacus smiled.  
“Robbie is absolutely wonderful, if that’s what you mean.” He said, looking at his husband.  
Robbie smiled back.  
“Yes, he does seem so.” Íþró said.  
Sportacus’s smile faded as a thought crossed his mind.  
“And you…you’re fine with, you know,” He said, gesturing between him and Robbie. “ _us_ , right?”  
“While I may find some irony that the son of a Glæpur was the one who won the heart of my only son,” Íþró said with a half-smile. “I trust your judgement on this.”  
Sportacus smiled thankfully and gave his father another squeeze.  
“Thank you, Pabbi.” He said, his voice muffled by his father’s chest plate.  
Íþró hugged him back.  
“For what?”  
“For being okay with everything that happened.” Sportacus said.  
“Maggi, I’m just glad to have you back.” Íþró said. “You’re happy, clearly. You’re healthy and safe, and you’ve made a wonderful life for yourself. I couldn’t be prouder of you if I tried.”  
Sportacus let out a choked laugh, tears running once again down his face.  
“I love you, Maggi.”  
“I love you too, Pabbi.” Sportacus responded, sniffling.  
The two hugged each other for some time, Íþró rocking his son gently side to side. Robbie and the kids watched from the sidelines, with Robbie smiling faintly at the sweet reunion. Bría seemed just as pleased, a wide grin plastered on her face.  
Pulling away slightly, Íþró broke the silence that had fallen.  
“Though really, I think the running away was rebellious enough. Marrying the son of a global criminal is a bit much, don’t you think?” Íþró asked, giving his son a look.  
“P-Pabbi! Please!” Sportacus said, his cheeks turning red.  
“I’m just joking, litla! I think your husband is lovely.” Íþró said. He leaned in close to Sportacus’s ear and whispered, “Though, you may want to tell him to calm down a little. He was about to pass out before you arrived.”  
Sportacus sighed and rolled his eyes.  
“I don’t think _anyone_ would be comfortable with having their estranged father brought up, Pabbi.”  
Íþró nodded. “I’ll apologize to him later then.”

Runar, growing impatient after all the hushed conversation, tugged on Robbie’s pant leg.  
“Paw-Paw, can we have dessert now?” he asked.  
Robbie gave his son a look and shook his head.  
“Not yet, Run-Run. Now be patient, they need their time.”  
“Actually, I think dessert is a fantastic idea right now!” said Íþró, clapping his hands together. “I believe you mentioned a sugar-free apple pie?”  
Robbie, standing up straight, gestured to one of the pies.  
“I had to come up with the nasty, sugar-free version so that that one and Runar could have dessert every now and then.” Robbie noted, cutting a hearty slice for his father in law.  
Íþró grinned, patting Sportacus’s back.  
“Well? Do you want some pie?”  
“B-Before dinner? Pabbi, that’s not how it works!” Sportacus responded nervously.  
“Oh come now son! I think that tonight’s a night for celebration! Dessert before dinner! …Even though most of us have had dinner already.” Íþró said.  
“See Sportastressed? Even your dad knows when to loosen up for a change!” Robbie said with a smirk.  
Sportacus frowned. “Well, I just believe in making a good impression on the children! And that means no dessert before dinner!”  
Íþró shrugged. “Well, you can have your dinner first if you’d like, son. It’s up to you in the end.”  
“I’ll just make sure to leave the asparagus off his plate.” Robbie said teasingly.  
Sportacus, at first, gave a confused look to his husband. Then, his eyes widened and he shot a look to his father.  
“Did you -!” Sportacus started.  
“What? Your daughter doesn’t like asparagus either, so I thought she’d appreciate hearing that story. You were such a picky eater when you were little!” Íþró noted, chewing on a bite of pie.  
“Now you can’t say that _you_ weren’t picky at my age!” Boasted Bría as she scooped a large mouthful of pie into her mouth.  
“Your dinner, dear.” Robbie said with a cheeky smile, laying Sportacus’s dinner, sans asparagus, by his hand.  
Sportacus groaned and laid his head in his hands.  
“Something told me, in a once hypothetical situation, that putting you and my father in the same room would be a terrible idea. Now I see I was right.” Sportacus mumbled.  
Robbie leaned over and kissed the top of Sportacus’s head.  
“I only tease because it’s funny and I love you.” He said with a smirk.  
Íþró rested his arm on Sportacus’s shoulder.  
“Don’t worry son, I promise not to tell _too_ many stories like that about you.” He said with a smirk.  
“At least none that unravel my usual parenting tricks.” Sportacus said with a faint smile.  
“No promises there!” Íþró said with a laugh.

As Sportacus rested his head back in his hands, Bría and Runar giggled at their father’s uncharacteristically exasperated reactions, laughing between bites of delicious apple pie.  
Íþró smiled warmly, watching his grandchildren laugh and enjoy their desserts.  
“Grandpabbi…now _that’s_ something I thought I’d never hear.” He noted quietly, taking a small bite of his own sugar-free pie slice.  
He looked back to both Robbie and Sportacus.  
“I have to say, I don’t think I’ve had a better day in a long time.”  
Robbie smiled. “Hard to beat reuniting with your son and meeting your grandchildren for the first time?”  
“I think so.” Íþró said with a chuckle. “Even if Maggi here may not agree.”  
Sportacus looked up.  
“Pabbi, don’t doubt for a moment that this isn’t one of the best days of my life. I’m just getting used to so much grief being thrown at me!”  
Íþró smirked. “I give you a hard time because I love you, Maggi.”  
He wrapped one arm around his son and gave him a quick side hug.  
“I’m so happy to see you again.”  
“I’m happy to see you too, Pabbi.”  
Íþró glanced over to his side, looking at his two grandchildren once more, before turning his attention back to the two adults.  
“Though, I am curious. Your two kids, you have an elven child and a human child. And both look rather strikingly like both of you.” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do they have a story behind them?”  
Sportacus and Robbie’s eyes widened, both slowly turning to look each other in the eyes.  
“Oh! Can I tell this story? It’s such a fun one!” Bría said, hopping off her seat to excitedly tug on her grandpabbi’s pant leg.  
Sportacus gently ushered Bría and Runar towards their rooms, with both kids disappointedly protesting.  
“Um, I think that this is a story best told by Robbie and I.” Sportacus said with a strained smile. “They’re both kind of long ones.”  
Íþró furrowed his brow. “How long are we talking about?”  
“About a second slice of pie long.” Robbie noted, scooping another slice of sugar-free pie onto Íþró’s plate, covering the leftovers of the first slice. “You might want to get comfy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Robbie and Sportacus told Ithro about how Bria and Runar came about, and Ithro is left slightly confused but also not that much because magic trees and randomly appearing children aren't all that weird. And then the town barges in to tell Sportacus about the other guy in monocolor flipping around and suddenly everyone gets to meet Sportacus's dad and things are super awesome and stuff lol
> 
> Sorry for how long this story took! I'm afraid that I dealt with some pretty bad writer's block for this story but some nice nudges helped me get this finished! Hope it's good enough for everyone! I know a few people waited a long while for the conclusion of the reunion story!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	14. All is Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus and Robbie enjoy a moment of quiet during Christmas Eve

In the depth of a hectic and busy period of life, it was rare for Sportacus to find a moment of quiet.

Not that he was complaining of course. He loved his children, and loved doting after them and watching them grow, becoming smarter and learning every day. He loved playing games with them both, and helping them with homework and their activities. Every part of being a father, he absolutely loved.

However, he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the times of quiet he and Robbie used to have. With so much noise, there’s nary a time to breathe and take in the moment.

That’s what led Sportacus to be awake so late at night. The clock’s hands were moving close to midnight, and Sportacus was sitting in his living room, relaxing on the couch. He was dressed in his pajamas and bath robe, looking out the window as the snow continued to fall. It made his heart light; his children would have another white Christmas, just as he hoped. He smiled as he gazed at the beauty of the falling snow, and how the blanket of white snow glistened in a rainbow of colors from the dangling Christmas lights.

The silence was so encompassing, it was bizarre. The house was silent, with only the usual creaking and shifts audible. From the corner of his eye, Sportacus could see the immaculately trimmed tree (with so many ornaments rounding the bottom tiers of the tree. He hoped his Christmas tree helpers would grow a bit more for next year.), with lights that twinkled and shone. Underneath the tree laid the treasure trove of presents, all wrapped in shiny wrapping paper and bows. They two shone in many colors, reflecting the twinkling lights above them.

Sportacus sighed and settled back into the couch, his eyes turning back to the window. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed.

“Now what do we have here? Do I see Sportacus staying up past 8:08? What will the children say?”

Sportacus turned, his expression softening and a smile crossing his face as he noticed his husband standing in the hallway. Robbie walked towards the couch, dressed in his own purple, fluffy bathrobe. He held two mugs in his hands, filled with something warm enough to produce steam. He handed one mug to Sportacus, and he soon realized they were filled with tea. De-caffeinated, he hoped.  
Sportacus chuckled.  
“I guess they’ll be shocked. What can I say? I married a villain. You’re influencing me.” Sportacus said teasingly.  
“Darn right I am. And you have no idea how satisfying it is to see you bend your own rules.” Robbie said with a smirk as he took his seat next to Sportacus.  
Sportacus leaned forward and planted a kiss on his husband’s cheek. Robbie, with a smile, returned his kiss with a kiss of his own.  
“But in all seriousness, what are you doing up? Couldn’t sleep? Nightmares?” asked Robbie, as he shifted up close to Sportacus.  
“Just couldn’t sleep.” Said Sportacus, wrapping his arm around his husband. “Kept thinking about tomorrow.”  
“Ah yes, Christmas Day. The wrapping paper tornado day.” Said Robbie with a laugh. “That’s going to be fun to clean up.”  
“Yeah, but it’ll be worth it. I bet the kids will love their presents.” Sportacus said.  
“They’d better. I didn’t get seven cuts on my right hand just for Runar to hate his Supreme Mega Defender Base set.” Robbie said, lifting up a bandaged hand.  
Sportacus smiled and planted a kiss on Robbie’s hand, right on a bandage.  
“Ow! That’s still sore.” Robbie said, recoiling.  
“Sorry, just thought that’d make it better.” Sportacus said sheepishly.  
“I mean yes and no. It would usually, but those metal parts really dug into my palm.” Robbie said. He gave his husband a reassuring smile. “I still appreciate the effort.”  
Sportacus kissed his husband’s cheek.  
“There. I know you didn’t get a cut there.” He said.  
“Thank you, Sportaloon.” Said Robbie.

The two watched the snow together quietly. Robbie snuggled closer, resting his cheek against Sportacus’s chest. Sportacus took a sip from his mug as he massaged Robbie’s scalp.  
“You think Bría will like the toy I made for her?” asked Robbie.  
“I’m sure she’ll love it, Robbie.” Said Sportacus.  
“I think so too, but…well, I still worry. She still loves animals, but she changes her favorite animal every day. I picked a llama just to be safe, but what if she suddenly decides she likes elephants? I’ll have made a robo-llama for nothing!” Robbie said.  
“Robbie, I think Bría will love your gift no matter what. You may be overthinking this a little.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
“Yeah, and that’s what people say when they don’t want to say how crappy your gift is.” Robbie mumbled.  
Sportacus chuckled and propped Robbie upright, giving him a kiss on the lips. Robbie reciprocated the kiss, and the two held like that for a moment before parting.  
“It’s been a while since we could do that, huh?” said Robbie.  
Sportacus sighed.  
“Things have been crazy lately. And tomorrow’s going to be the craziest.”  
“Your dad is still showing up, right? And you told him not to pop through the TV again, right?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus chuckled and nodded.  
“Yes, I made sure to _emphasize_ to Pabbi not to walk through the TV. He promised he wouldn’t.”  
“Good. Because last time I nearly had a heart attack.” Robbie said, frowning.  
“I guess he doesn’t think that that might freak out non-huldúfolk.” Noted Sportacus.  
“We make horror movies based on people who do that, Sportadork.” Said Robbie with a look.  
“Right, I forgot that.” Sportacus laughed.

They went quiet once more. Sportacus snuggled up to Robbie and held one of his hands, having placed his mug to the side. Robbie wrapped an arm around Sportacus as they watched the snow.

“It’s absolutely beautiful.” Said Sportacus in a hushed voice.  
“It is.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus looked up at his husband.  
“What are you thinking about? You have your thinking face on.” He asked.  
Robbie smirked and laughed quietly.  
“Nothing much.” He said, his smile fading. “Just about how lucky I am. That I’m lucky to have someone like you to cuddle with and watch the snow fall. Sometimes this all seems so surreal to me. Yet here we are.”  
“Funny you say that.” Said Sportacus.  
Robbie looked confusedly at his husband.  
“Why?”  
Sportacus smiled warmly at Robbie.  
“I was about to say how lucky I am to have you.”  
Robbie stuck out his tongue.  
“That is _so_ cheesy, Sportacheese.”  
“I thought it was Christmas? Things are always a little cheesy and sappy around Christmas.” Sportacus said with a smirk as he nuzzled Robbie’s neck.  
Robbie rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop an affectionate smile from crossing his face.  
“I guess you’re right.” He finally admitted. He kissed the top of Sportacus’s head, leading to Sportacus leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips.

The snow began to fall harder, dusting the yard in another layer of snow. The yard still glittered like diamonds, and any outside noise remained muffled by the encompassing snow.

“I have an idea.” Said Sportacus.  
“Oh? What’s that?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus grinned.  
“Let’s open a present each. Early.” He said.  
Robbie made a jokingly scandalized look, pressing a hand against his chest.  
“Why Sportacus! Opening a present? Before Christmas Day? I can’t believe you, you rebel!” He said.  
Sportacus rolled his eyes and smiled, shaking his head.  
“Come on, it’s not _that_ rebellious. Lots of families do this. Besides, I can’t wait for you to open your present.”  
“Very well, Sportaimpatient, let’s open one present each.” Robbie said, getting up to look through the presents.  
Sportacus sat up on his knees, peering over the top of the couch.  
“Not that one. Pick the smaller one.” He said, pointing to a small box near the base of the tree.  
Robbie rolled his eyes and put down the slightly larger present he originally picked. He took the two boxes and laid one on each of their laps.  
“You open yours first.” Robbie said.  
“Or we could do it at the same time?” suggested Sportacus.  
“Fair enough.” Robbie said with a shrug. “Get ready, set, go!”

Both men began to rip off their wrapping paper, quickly yet not so noisily as to wake up their slumbering children. As both men removed the majority of the paper and opened their boxes, both men paused.

Robbie turned first, looking over as Sportacus lifted a small frame out of the box. It was a beautifully carved, wooden frame that held two pictures. On one side was a present family portrait, with Sportacus and Robbie posing with Bría and Runar. On the other side was a much older photo, aged by time and in sepia tone, of Sportacus as a young child with his mother and father.  
“Íþróttaálfurinn said something about you not taking any photos before you left, so I talked with him and he found this photo in his attic. He thought you’d like this one best.” Robbie said with a small smile.  
Sportacus, a small tear forming in the corner of his eye, smiled at Robbie with a sad smile.  
“This was the last picture we took together, before she passed away. I…I didn’t think Pabbi still had it. A lot of her things were thrown in storage when she died.”  
“Well, apparently it held up all these years later. Didn’t need much touch-up work.” Said Robbie.  
He leaned forward and dried a tear from Sportacus’s face.  
“I gather you like it?” He asked.  
Sportacus nodded as more tears fell down his face.  
“It’s the perfect Christmas gift.” He said with a smile.  
“Well geez, have to make sure. With how much you’re crying, can’t tell.” Said Robbie teasingly as he took the sleeve of his bathrobe to wipe away more tears.  
Sportacus laughed.  
“Why don’t you see what your gift is?” asked Sportacus.

“Alright, but only if you’re done crying.” Robbie said with a smirk.  
“I’m done. Promise.” Said Sportacus, lifting up his hands.  
Robbie then turned and opened the little box. He paused as he glanced at the content inside. It looked like a ring, but it was very roughly made. The sides were wavy and warped, though the inner ring was clean. The metal looked of poor quality, almost like aged steel. It seemed familiar with its blue-ish hue, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  
“Well, thanks Sportacus. It’s an interesting ring.” Robbie said, keeping a smile.  
Sportacus looked at him with a quite sort of expression.  
“Do you know where that metal is from?” He asked softly.  
Robbie looked back at the ring, examining it carefully.  
“It seems familiar, but I’m drawing a blank.” He admitted.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“I went back down to your lair.” He said.  
Robbie paused. He slowly turned to look at his husband.  
“Sportacus, you know that it’s unsafe to go down there!” He said.  
“I know, I just thought…well I remember how we first watched a movie down there together.” Sportacus said softly. “I remember that was the first night I really knew I liked you. I mean I already did before hand, but that was the night that cemented it for me.”  
He took Robbie’s hand in his.  
“I still remember looking at the stars with you, out in the grasses. Laying on the blanket together and talking about our lives. You were the first person I’d ever told about my life.”  
Robbie smiled warmly.  
“And you were the first I told too.” He said.  
Sportacus smiled affectionately.  
“I wanted to make something for you as a memory of one of our first nights together. I know it was probably stupid, but I wanted a piece of metal from your lair. I also thought you’d like having a piece of it. I know it’s been years, but – “

Sportacus was interrupted by Robbie drawing him into a kiss, which he quickly sunk into. Robbie wrapped his arms around Sportacus, and Sportacus grasped at the back of Robbie’s neck.

Pulling away, Robbie smiled.  
“It’s the perfect gift. Thank you, Sportacus.” Said Robbie, as he finally slipped on his new ring. It fit perfectly.  
“Thank you, Robbie. For everything.” Said Sportacus, as he snuggled back close.

The snow began falling less so. The house was still quiet, and the atmosphere was heavy and sleepy.  
“Sportacus?” said Robbie.  
“Hmm?” asked Sportacus, now seemingly falling asleep.  
“Merry Christmas.” Said Robbie, as he kissed the top of Sportacus’s head.  
“Merry Christmas.” Said Sportacus as he cuddled with his husband.

The two eventually fell asleep together on the couch, both deeply satisfied with that one moment of tranquility they found together.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post this until tonight, but couldn't wait. I had originally planned The Spirits of the Season to be finished by tonight, but I guess that was too ambitious. I still wanted you all to have a Christmas fic ready for Christmas Eve, so I wrote this as something sweet for the holiday season.
> 
> Merry Christmas/Happy Hannukah/Happy Solstice/Happy Holidays/Etc. to everyone :) and as a side note, this fanfic commemorates one year on Tumblr and AO3 as sportscandycollective. Thank you to everyone who's read my fics over the year and hope that you enjoy all future stories going forward :D
> 
> Thank you all for reading and hope you all have a peaceful holiday season!
> 
> -Mod Murdock


	15. Just A Phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place almost a year after "Battle Scars"
> 
> While helping Sportacus move some things to his house, Robbie discovers a secret from Sportacus's past. A secret that may or may not involve fingerless gloves and black eyeliner.

They had been dating for almost a year when Robbie suggested that Sportacus move some of his things down to his new home.

Sportacus, of course, didn’t hesitate to agree. After all, by this point, he’d been staying over almost every other night. He’d stayed the night enough times that he had to reactivate the nighttime protocol on the airship, since it assumed he’d no longer need it.  
“ _It’s been 45 days since nighttime protocol was utilized. I shut down the night cycle simply to conserve on energy_.” The ship had explained.  
“I think she means you’ve been staying over too often.” Robbie had teased.  
“Well, she might have a point.” Sportacus said, stroking his mustache in thought. “N-Not to say I should stop staying over.”  
“Then maybe you should move some of your things over? At least so you don’t have to keep bringing a duffle bag.” Robbie suggested.

And that’s how they ended up spending their afternoon looking through closets and hidden compartments on the ship, gathering some of Sportacus’s belongings to move down to Robbie’s house.  
A small, _very_ small pile had been started in the middle of the airship, mostly comprised of a few changes of clothes, a few knickknacks, and some necessities. Robbie was a little surprised to not see much along the lines of pictures, music, or more personal mementoes.  
“I didn’t collect much like that on my travels. I guess I didn’t think about it at the time and didn’t have a camera.” Sportacus had explained, slightly sorrowful, as if he too regretted the lack of photographs.  
“Hmm, well we’ll change that. I’m pretty sure I salvaged a polaroid from my lair and it’s in storage.” Robbie noted, earning him a kiss from the elf.

Sportacus had disappeared into a side hallway (which Robbie didn’t even know could physically _exist_ on such a compact ship), looking for an extra bag of sports equipment and clothing, when Robbie had opened up a smaller, seemingly forgotten closet near Sportacus’s bed.  
The closet, much like the others they’d opened, was organized in such a way that the word “organized” wouldn’t even live in its descriptive orbit. Much like his book shelf, this closet was a chaotic, precariously stacked mess of boxes and loose papers.  
Robbie wasn’t sure what to laugh at first: the absolutely cluttered state of anything Sportacus “organized”, or the fact the hero clearly lied. These boxes seemed to be filled with much more personal objects, judging from the chicken scratch on some of the papers.  
He couldn’t make out any of the writing, of course, but he could see that one box was labeled with two words, one starting with “d” the other with “m”.  
“Hmm, wonder if the ‘m’ stands for ‘mementoes’. Might as well give it a peek.” Robbie said to himself as he dislodged the box, releasing a cloud of dust and a few spare knickknacks toppling to the floor.  
Coughing, Robbie brushed away the excess dust and ripped open the tape on the box, opening the flaps. He stopped in his tracks, his mouth gaping open, once he looked inside.

Were those… _fingerless gloves_?  
And _spiked bracelets_?  
In disbelief, Robbie lifted the articles of clothing from the box, realizing there was more inside. He not only found those two accessories, but he happened to find a dark gray beanie, worn and full of holes, a musty and dirty t-shirt with its sleeves missing, an old hoodie, and -   
“Is this a _collar_?” Robbie asked himself, staring with both confusion and giddy joy at this strange yet amazing treasure trove he’d discovered. He was a little disappointed once he noticed that the collar’s pendant was absent, only the clip dangling from the spiked collar.  
Oh this was _too_ good.  
It only got better as Robbie unearthed what looked like a half-empty, long dried up bottle of black nail polish and some very old looking eyeshadow and eyeliner, both in shades of charcoal and pitch black.  
“Sportacus you little _punk_ , you little _liar_. ‘Oh, I don’t have any mementos! I didn’t remember to keep anything from the past!’” Robbie said to himself, mimicking the hero’s style of speech and chuckling.  
Gathering the clothing and accessories, he was about to turn away to question Sportacus about his previous stylistic choices, when he heard something shift in the box.

It seemed that removing the beanie and hoodie had uncovered more lovely, _lovely_ treasures from Sportacus’s past, though these seemed to make Robbie take a pause.  
First, he spotted a journal. It wasn’t a fancy journal. Actually, it looked like a regular, red, spiral notebook with some “edgy” stickers slapped onto its cover at random. Scribbled on the front were the words, “song ideas”.  
“No way.” Robbie said in a hushed voice.  
He plucked the notebook out of the box, flipping through the pages. Each page was filled with endless lines of notes and lyrics, accompanied by appropriate doodles and side notes. He, however, didn’t get a good look at the detailed content, because the next discovery distracted him.  
Hidden under the notebook was a pile of photos, kept together crudely with a rubber band. Underneath it was a jewel case with a crack in its cover, an image of what he could only describe as a “hell goat” on its cover with a maiden in white.  
The cover’s title read, “Dreary Midnight LP”.  
“Oh, no _way_.” Robbie said, unsure whether to grin or to just let his mouth hang.  
Pulling off the rubber band, he skimmed through the photos.  
The photos featured five individuals, looking no older than seventeen. Each of them was dressed to the letter in black of all shades. All wore skinny jeans with studded belts and converse sneakers. They wore a variety of shirts from torn t-shirts to button-ups, though all were some shade of black or gray. And, of course, all had a hairstyle that partially obscured one of their eyes and probably required too much straightening and styling cream.

And standing right in front of them, his gaze at the camera a faux sort of dangerous sadness, was someone that Robbie wouldn’t have recognized if he hadn’t had his signature mustache, albeit much shorter in this photograph.  
No doubt about it, that was _Sportacus_ , with dyed black hair styled with overtly long bangs, heavy black eyeliner, painted nails, and wearing all the accessories and clothing Robbie had found in the box.  
The next photos only cemented the conclusion Robbie had reached, with rough but clear enough photos of Sportacus screaming into a microphone, or of him standing next to one of the individuals at what was clearly an underground venue, or of him posing next to a cutout of the aforementioned “hell goat”.  
“Wait…” Robbie said quietly, squinting at the jewel case and the photos.  
There was something distinctly familiar about the CD case.  
He turned over the case in his hand, looking at the back. On the back, the track list was printed.  
Where had he seen this before?  
He flipped through the photos once more, stopping on one specific snapshot. It looked like a sort of publicity shot of just Sportacus, taken with much higher quality than the other pictures and on glossy print. He was caught mid turn, gripping a microphone stand, his hair swishing through the air. He was looking straight at the camera and, almost, into Robbie’s eyes.  
He gasped.  
“This looks like…” He started to say.

“Hey Robbie! Looks like you found something! What – “Sportacus started, before stopping dead in his tracks.  
The two men froze and turned to look at each other, Robbie with the photos and CD still in his hands, Sportacus with yet another duffel bag slung around his shoulder.  
The elf’s face looked a bit pale as he glanced at the familiar box, his old clothing strewn on the floor and his notebook next to them.  
“Um…” Sportacus started to say, his mouth feeling a little dry.  
“Sportacus, this…” Robbie said, standing to his feet and holding out one of the photos, the one that’d caught his eye. “…this is you, right?”  
Sportacus’s cheeks instantly burned a bright red. He chuckled uneasily and gave a lopsided, uneasy grin.  
“M-Maybe?” He said uncomfortably.  
Robbie laughed, smiling as he turned the photo back towards him.  
Sportacus’s smile vanished as he reached for words, looking like a fish as his face burned a brighter red of embarrassment.  
“H-Hey, that was a long time ago! I was a teenager a-and it was the look of the time! It’s not like I dress like that now!” He said defensively. “Y-You know, it was just a phase!”  
“I know that, Sportadummy! That’s not why I’m laughing! I mean, maybe earlier, but not now.” Robbie said, wiping away a tear. “No need to get defensive!”  
Sportacus’s cheeks continued to burn a bright red as he crossed his arms.  
“Well, then why are you laughing?” He asked, still feeling a little embarrassed.  
“I’m laughing,” Robbie said, turning the photo towards Sportacus once more. “because I just realized where I’ve seen this photo before!”

Sportacus then looked very confused.  
“Wait…you’ve _seen_ that photo before? W-We, well, we just used that one for merchandise at our shows. Did…did you go to one of our shows?” He asked.  
Robbie shook his head, letting the last of his giggles escape him.  
“N-No, not exactly. I had this friend, you see, back in high school. He went to all these underground, super obscure shows. Mostly punk, but he went to emo shows too. He didn’t get me a Christmas gift one year, so he instead gave me some of the merch he got from a show he went to. One piece of merch was this poster.”  
“Oh?” Sportacus said, listening curiously.  
“Yeah, the other was a CD. I don’t think mine looked as nice as yours though.” Robbie said, holding up the CD case.  
Sportacus smiled fondly.  
“Yeah, that was a copy from the producer. Turned out jewel cases were more expensive than we thought so we went cheap and got those paper sleeves.” He said with a chuckle.  
“I remember that now. I thought it was a joke. Your band’s name was written in marker on the front!” Robbie said, giving the hero a look.  
“We were teenagers! We didn’t exactly have a lot of cash.” Sportacus said.  
“It shows.” Robbie said with a smirk. “But I remember I hung up the poster in my room and listened to the CD a few times.”  
“Funny that you got that poster.” Sportacus said thoughtfully. “We made a bunch of different posters. Most were of the whole band. This is the only one that featured just me.”  
Robbie chuckled, until he paused. He remembered his own reaction to when he got that particular poster:

_“Um, dude, you sure there weren’t any other posters? This one’s a little…weird.”  
“Oh sure, I just figured you’d like this one the best.” His friend had said.  
Robbie had crinkled his nose.  
“And why would you think that? It’s just a guy staring at the camera. It’s weird.”  
“Oh I don’t know. Just thought maybe you’d find the guy good looking.”  
“What?! Why would you think that?!”  
“Oh I don’t know _ Robert. _Just that maybe you’d like his muscles and that you’re gayer than a rainb – “_  
“GET OUT!”

Of course, his friend wasn’t wrong. But Robbie wouldn’t admit that.  
“Yeah, I guess that’s pretty funny.” Robbie finally said.  
Sportacus smirked, having caught Robbie’s pause.  
“Did you like the poster?” He asked knowingly.  
Robbie gave him a look, even as his cheeks turned pink.  
“W-Well, sure, it was a gift, so I hung it up out of politeness.” He explained simply.  
“Really? You didn’t think the lead singer was sort of cute?” Sportacus asked cheekily, sliding over to his boyfriend.  
“N-No! Sorry to burst your bubble, but no!” Robbie said, pink turning red.  
“I think you’re lying.”  
“And I think you’re full of yourself!” Robbie said, clearly flustered.  
“Aww, Robbie! I know you liked me for a long time, but I didn’t know for _that_ long!” Sportacus teased, snuggling up to his boyfriend.  
“Oh my gods, _stop_!” Robbie said, futilely trying to push his boyfriend away.  
“It was destiny! Fate! Written in the stars in black eyeliner!” Sportacus continued dramatically, wrapping his arms around Robbie’s shoulders and snuggling close.  
Robbie rolled his eyes.  
“You’re being such a drama king.”  
“I learn from the best.” Sportacus said cheekily. “I just find it funny that you’re being so defensive about that. We’re dating now; what makes it weird that you had a crush on me in high school?”  
“I mean, I don’t know!” Robbie admitted. “It’s not weird that I might’ve hung up a poster of you and thought you were kind of attractive?”  
Sportacus shrugged.  
“We didn’t know each other back then. At that point, I was just another singer for another band. It’s not like you had a poster of me and we were classmates or something. I don’t know, I don’t find it that weird.”  
“Well, when you put it that way, I guess it’s not _that_ weird.” Robbie said, slightly mumbling.  
He chuckled and smirked.  
“But it’s still a little weird. That singer I may have found sort of hot,”  
“Only sort of?” asked Sportacus cheekily.  
“Cool it.” Robbie warned with a half-smile. “Just weird that that singer I found attractive in high school would be you, and that we’d run into each other years later, and then we’d be dating, and I never knew that the singer and you were the same person.”  
“I guess that is kind of funny.” Sportacus said. “Then again, life is like that sometimes. The elves think that sometimes magic can make coincidences like this happen. The spirits sometimes like setting things up like dominoes.”  
“Well I’ll hand it to them, this one is definitely out there.” Robbie said, turning to face Sportacus. “Though I’m still curious. How in the world did you, Mr. “Sunshine and Lollipops and Always a Way”, end up in an emo band? You kind of see how those two don’t mix, right?”

“Yeah, trust me, the irony isn’t lost.” Sportacus said. “I guess, well, I was sixteen when I first met Silas and the others. He was the bassist. I had been running for so many years and, well, I guess I felt a little…bottled up? I don’t know if that’s the right words.”  
“I think I understand.”  
“Alright, well, if this makes it clearer, I had a lot of…cooped up feelings about life. I met Silas and his friends during one of my stops. I told them my story and they thought my life experiences would make great song material, so I joined their band as their singer. I kind of used my time with them to work through, you know, my feelings about everything that’d happened. My mom dying. All the bullying and isolation from my peers. My pabbi not being home.”  
“Kind of cathartic?”  
“You wouldn’t believe it.” Sportacus said. “I mean, you know what that music sounds like. Just got to pour out all my feelings onto the page and on stage. I think it annoyed Annie, our guitarist, though. She helped me with my makeup and, well, sometimes it’d get a little emotional and…let’s just say my eyeliner ran sometimes.”  
“Yeah, I think I will never get over that. You in all that black! With spikes and studs! And makeup!” Robbie said with a laugh.  
Sportacus laughed.  
“It was weird at first, but I guess it made me feel kind of…cool? Is that weird?”  
“Nah.” Robbie said with a handwave.  
“Then I felt kind of cool. The eyeliner was a little uncomfortable though. The skinny jeans weren’t fun either. You can’t move around or do flips in them!”  
“Only you would worry about your flipping ability, Sportacus.” Robbie said, rolling his eyes.  
“You know me. Number one concern for clothes.”  
“Alright, well, what made you quit? I’m assuming you quit.” Asked Robbie.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“I guess…just after a while I felt I wasn’t getting anywhere. Not fame wise I mean, just emotions wise. I was getting angry and sad about what happened, but I wasn’t finding any sort of peace. So, I ended up leaving the band and my friends and kept moving. I think they eventually found another singer.”  
“And you eventually got all the black hair dye out.” Robbie noted.  
Sportacus rubbed a hand through his hair.  
“It took months! Almost years! It was crazy!” He said.  
“Yeah well somethings fade with time, but black hair-dye is near permanent.” Robbie said with a smirk.

Sportacus chuckled, leading to Robbie chuckling and eventually laughing, which Sportacus joined along with as well.  
“Oh, today is too great. It feels like I’ve learned more about you in one afternoon than in the last few months.” Robbie said, wiping away a tear.  
“You really are getting a thrill out of this whole ‘emo band’ thing, aren’t you?” Asked Sportacus, smirking.  
“I don’t think it’ll ever stop being funny to me! Not bad funny I mean, just…just wow.” Robbie said, rolling one of the gloves around in his hand.  
Sportacus smiled, plucking the glove away and slipping it back onto his hand. He flexed his fingers, adjusting to the feel of the glove. Still comfy, even so many years later.  
“Oh look who’s looking edgy? Don’t mess with you, you’ve got a single fingerless glove on. You mean _business_.” Robbie teased cheekily.  
“You just want me to put on all the clothes again, don’t you?” Asked Sportacus, giving him a look.  
“Maybe.”  
Sportacus shook his head and laughed.  
“Give me a minute.” He said, tucking away the clothes and ducking into a closet.

A few minutes later, Sportacus emerged, decked out in his old clothes. The jeans and t-shirt felt a little tighter than they used to, and the clothes definitely needed a wash, but otherwise Sportacus was impressed at how well they still fit.  
Robbie gave a wolf whistle as Sportacus emerged, causing the elf to blush.  
“Robbie!” Sportacus jokingly scolded.  
“What? I can’t say you look good in black?” Robbie said, striding over. “I must say, for a hero, you look awfully good in a villain’s color.”  
“Well, I still prefer my blue uniform.” Sportacus said, shrugging.  
“You know, variety is the spice of life.” Robbie said, running a hand up Sportacus’s chest.  
“Says the man who’s worn the same vest and high-waist pants his whole life.”  
“Shut up.” Robbie said, giving Sportacus a look.  
Sportacus chuckled and kissed his boyfriend.  
Robbie kissed him back, laughing as he did.  
“That’s one thing off the bucket list: I kissed a celebrity!”  
Sportacus rolled his eyes.  
“I’m hardly a celebrity, Robbie. Dreary Midnight was a fun band, but we weren’t _that_ great. Definitely not good enough to be famous.”  
“So you say. My opinion is still up in the air.” Robbie said with a cheeky grin, holding up the CD.  
Sportacus’s pupils shrunk.  
“Uh, well maybe we could just say we listened to it?” He suggested weakly.  
“No dice, Sportacus. We can’t just find your old band stuff without listening to your _magnum opus_.” Robbie said, striding over to a far wall where a CD slot had appeared.  
Before Sportacus could say anything else, Robbie had slid the CD into the slot, the ship whirring quietly as it prepared to play.  
“Oh geez…” Sportacus said, turning bright red as he immediately recognized the first song’s guitar riff.

Robbie strode back over, smirking and nodding to the music as he slid next to Sportacus.  
Sportacus cringed as he heard his singing voice pump through the ship’s speakers, him burying his face in his hands as he listened.  
Robbie leaned against Sportacus, nodding and snapping his fingers to the beat.  
“Hmm, deep lyrics. Nice comparing your pain to ‘thousands of thousands of thorns’. Very deep. Hits you right in the core.”  
“What did I do to deserve this?” mumbled Sportacus, sinking down to the floor. “These songs are _terrible_.”  
“Yeah, they are.” Robbie said, dropping to the floor with his boyfriend.  
Sportacus peeked between his fingers at Robbie.  
“And you’re _enjoying_ them?”  
“Yeah, but not because they’re good.” Robbie said, kissing Sportacus’s forehead.  
“Then why?”  
“Because…Because they’re your songs, and it gives me a better idea of the person you’ve been. That’s kind of nice.” Robbie said, shrugging.  
“Even if it’s kind of cringy?”  
“Especially if it’s cringy.” Robbie said, smirking. “Tells me you’ve been a Sportadork since day one.”  
Sportacus rolled his eyes and smiled, shaking his head.  
“Okay, Robbie.”

Robbie kissed Sportacus again.  
“Love you, my edgy emo elf.”  
“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”  
“Nope.”  
“Darn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be one of the most self-indulgent things I've written, but I couldn't help it. I've always loved the emo!Sportacus artwork and headcanons, so once I realized that this AU (strangely enough) could plausibly have Sportacus be a previous emo, I jumped on the possibility.
> 
> Of course, this drive was partly inspired by this video of Sportacus's singing voice Matthias Matthiasson performing at Songvakeppni in 2011, which was very emo-ish: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ek3wEtVsuFw  
> It's just too perfect.
> 
> Sportacus's emo outfit heavily inspired by this fan art: http://fecklessknickknacks.tumblr.com/post/168830170873/au-where-everything-is-the-same-except-sportacus
> 
> Again, I know this is pretty silly, but I hope you all enjoyed it regardless XD
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
